THE 


PIAZZA    TALES, 


BY 

HERMAN    MELVILLE, 

AUTHOR  OF  "TYPEE,"  "  OMOO,"  ETC.,  ETC.,  ETC. 


NEW  YOKK; 

DIX  &  EDWARDS,  321   BROADWAY. 
LONDON :  SAMPSON  LOW,  SON  &  CO. 

1856. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1856,  by 

HERMAN  MELVILLE, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for 
the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


MILLER    &    HOLMAN, 

Printers  &  Stereotypers,  N.  Y. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

THE  PIAZZA                             -  1 

BARTLEBY                   -                                    -  31 

BENITO  CERENO     -                  -                           -  109 

THE  LIGHTNING-ROD  MAN                              -  271 

THE  ENCANTADAS  ;  OR,  ENCHANTED  ISLANDS       -  287 

THE  BELL-TOWER       -         -         -         -         -  401 


THE   PIAZZA. 

"  With  fairest  flowers, 
Whilst  summer  lasts,  and  I  live  here,  Fidele — " 

WHEN  I  removed  into  the  country,  it  was  to 
occupy  an  old-fashioned  farm-house,  which 
had  no  piazza — a  deficiency  the  more  regret 
ted,  because  not  only  did  I  like  piazzas,  as 
somehow  combining  the  coziness  of  in-doors 
with  the  freedom  of  out-doors,  and'  it  is  so 
pleasant  to  inspect  your  thermometer  there, 
but  the  country  round  about  was  such  a  pic 
ture,  that  in  berry  time  no  boy  climbs  hill 
or  crosses  vale  without  coming  upon  easels 
planted  in  every  nook,  and  sun-burnt  painters 
painting  there.  A  very  paradise  of  painters. 
The  circle  of  the  stars  cut  by  the  circle  of  the 
mountains.  At  least,  so  looks  it  from  the 
house ;  though,  once  upon  the  mountains,  no 

circle  of  them  can  you  see.     Had  the  site  been 
1 


2  THE    PIAZZA    TALES. 

chosen  five  rods  off,  this  charmed  ring  would 
not  have  been. 

The  house  is  old.  Seventy  years  since,  from 
the  heart  of  the  Hearth  Stone  Hills,  they  quar 
ried  the  Kaaba,  or  Holy  Stone,  to  which,  each 
Thanksgiving,  the  social  pilgrims  used  to  come. 
So  long  ago,  that,  in  digging  for  the  foundation, 
the  workme^used  both  spade  and  axe,  fighting 
the  Troglodytes  of  those  subterranean  parts — 
sturdy  roots  of  a  sturdy  wood,  encamped  upon 
what  is  now  a  long  land-slide  of  sleeping 
meadow,  sloping  away  off  from  my  poppy-bed. 
Of  that  knit  wood,  but  one  survivor  stands — an 

% 

elm,  lonely  through  steadfastness. 

Whoever  built  the  house,  hebuilded  better  than 
he  knew ;  or  else  Orion  in  the  zenith  flashed 
down  his  Damocles'  sword  to  him  some  starry 
night,  and  said,  "Build  there."  For  how, 
otherwise,  could  it  have  entered  the  builder's 
mind,  that,  upon  the  clearing  being  made,  such 
a  purple  prospect  would  be  his  ?— nothing  less 
than  Greylock,  with  all  his  hills  about  him,  like 
Charlemagne  among  his  peers. 

Now,  for  a  house,  so  situated  in  such  a  coun 
try,  to  have  no  piazza  for  the  convenience  of 


THE      PIAZZA.  3 

those  who  might  desire  to  feast  upon  the  view, 
and  take  their  time  and  ease  about  it,  seemed 
as  much  of  an  omission  as  if  a  picture-gallery 
should  have  no  bench ;  for  what  but  picture- 
galleries  are  the  marble  halls  of  these  same 
limestone  hills? — galleries  hung,  month  after 
month  anew,  with  pictures  ever  fading  into 
pictures  ever  fresh.  And  beauty  is  like  piety — 
you  cannot  run  and  read  it;  tranquillity  and 
constancy,  with,  now-a-days,  an  easy  chair,  are 
needed.  For  though,  of  old,  when  reverence 
was  in  vogue,  and  indolence  was  not,  the 
devotees  of  Nature,  doubtless,  used  to  stand  and 
adore — -just  as,  in  the  cathedrals  of  those  ages, 
the  worshipers  of  a  higher  Power  did — yet,  in 
these  times  of  failing  faith  and  feeble  knees,  we 
have  the  piazza  and  the  pew. 

During  the  first  year  of  my  residence,  the 
more  leisurely  to  witness  the  coronation  of 
Charlemagne  (weather  permitting,  they  crown 
him  every  sunrise  and  sunset),  I  chose  me,  on 
the  hill-side  bank  near  by,  a  royal  lounge  of 
turf — a  green  velvet  lounge,  with  long,  moss- 
padded  back ;  while  at  the  head,  strangely 
enough,  there  grew  (but,  I  suppose,  for  herald- 


THE     PIAZZA      TALES. 


ry)  three  tufts  of  blue  violets  in  a  field-argent 
of  wild  strawberries ;  and  a  trellis,  with  honey 
suckle,  I  set  for  canopy.  Very  majestical 
lounge,  indeed.  So  much  so,  that  here,  as 
with  the  reclining  majesty  of  Denmark  in  his 
orchard,  a  sly  ear-ache  invaded  me.  But,  if 
damps  abound  at  times  in  Westminster  Abbey, 
because  it  is  so  old,  why  not  within  this  monas 
tery  of  mountains,  which  is  older  ? 

A  piazza  must  be  had. 

The  house  was  wide — my  fortune  narrow  ;  so 
that,  to  build  a  panoramic  piazza,  one  round 
and  round,  it  could  not  be — although,  indeed, 
considering  the  matter  by  rule  and  square,  the 
carpenters,  in  the  kindest  way,  were  anxious  to 
gratify  my  furthest  wishes,  at  I've  forgotten  how 
much  a  foot. 

Upon  but  one  of  the  four  sides  would  pru 
dence  grant  me  what  I  wanted.  Now,  which 
side? 

To  the  east,  that  long  camp  of  the  Hearth 
Stone  Hills,  fading  far  away  towards  Quito ; 
and  every  fall,  a  small  white  flake  of  something 
peering  suddenly,  of  a  coolish  morning,  from 
the  topmost  cliff — the  season's  new-dropped 


THE     PIAZZA. 


lamb,  its  earliest  fleece ;  and  then  the  Christmas 
dawn,  draping  those  dun  highlands  with  red- 
barred  plaids  and  tartans — goodly  sight  from 
your  piazza,  that.  Goodly  sight;  but,  to  the 
north  is  Charlemagne — can't  have  the  Hearth 
Stone  Hills  with  Charlemagne. 

Well,  the  south  side.  Apple-trees  are  there. 
Pleasant,  of  a  balmy  morning,  in  the  month  of 
May,  to  sit  and  see  that  orchard,  white-budded, 
as  for  a  bridal ;  and,  in  October,  one  green 
arsenal  yard  ;  such  piles  of  ruddy  shot.  Very 
fine,  I  grant ;  but,  to  the  north  is  Charlemagne. 

The  west  side,  look.  An  upland  pasture, 
alleying  away  into  a  maple  wood  at  top. 
Sweet,  in  opening  spring,  to  trace  upon  the 
hill-side,  otherwise  gray  and  bare — to  trace,  I 
say,  the  oldest  paths  by  their  streaks  of  earliest 
green.  Sweet,  indeed,  I  can't  deny;  but,  to 
the  north  is  Charlemagne. 

So  Charlemagne,  he  carried  it.  It  was  not 
long  after  1848 ;  and,  somehow,  about  that  time, 
all  round  the  world,  these  kings,  they  had  the 
casting  vote,  and  voted  for  themselves. 

No  sooner  was  ground  broken,  than  all  the 
neighborhood,  neighbor  Dives,  in  particular, 


6  THE      PIAZZA      TALES. 

broke,  too — into  a  laugh.  Piazza  to  the  north  ! 
Winter  piazza  !  Wants,  of  winter  midnights,  to 
watch  the  Aurora  Borealis,  I  suppose ;  hope 
he's  laid  in  good  store  of  Polar  muffs  and 
mittens. 

That  was  in  the  lion  month  of  March.  Not 
forgotten  are  the  "blue  noses  of  the  carpenters, 
and  how  they  scouted  at  the  greenness  of  the 
cit,  who  would  build  his  sole  piazza  to  the 
north.  But  March  don't  last  forever ;  patience, 
and  August  comes.  And  then,  in  the  cool 
elysium  of  my  northern  bower,  I,  Lazarus  in 
Abraham's  bosom,  cast  down  the  hill  a  pitying 
glance  on  poor  old  Dives,  tormented  in  the 
purgatory  of  his  piazza  to  the  south. 

But,  even  in  December,  this  northern  piazza 
does  not  repel — nipping  cold  and  gusty  though 
it  be,  and  the  north  wind,  like  any  miller, 
bolting  by  the  snow,  in  finest  flour^-for  then, 
once  more,  with  frosted  beard,  I  pace  the  sleety 
deck,  weathering  Cape  Horn. 

In  summer,  too,  Canute-like,  sitting  here,  one 
is  often  reminded  of  the  sea.  For  not  only  do 
long  ground-swells  roll  the  slanting  grain,  and 
little  wavelets  of  the  grass  ripple  over  upon  the 


T  II  E      P  I  A  Z  Z  A 


low  piazza,  as  their  beach,  and  the  blown  down 
of  dandelions  is  wafted  like  the  spray,  and  the 
purple,  of  .the  mountains  is  just  the  purple  of 
the  billows,  and  a  still  August  noon  broods  upon 
the  deep  meadows,  as  a  calm  upon  'the  Line ; 
but  the  vastness  and  the  lonesomeness  are  so 
oceanic,  and  the  silence  and  the  sameness,  too, 
that  the  first  peep  of  a  strange  house,  rising 
beyond  the  trees,  is,  for  all  the  world  like  spy 
ing,  on  the  Barbary  coast,  an  unknown  sail. 

And  this  recalls  my  inland  voyage  to  fairy 
land.  A  true  voyage;  but,  take  it  all  in  all, 
interesting  as  if  invented. 

From  the  piazza,  some  uncertain  object  I 
had  caught,  mysteriously  snugged  away,  to  all 
appearance,  in  a  sort  of  purpled  breast-pocket, 
high  up  in  a  hopper-like  hollow,  or  sunken 
angle,  among  the  northwestern  mountains — 
yet,  whether,  really,  it  was  on  a  mountain-side, 
or  a  mountain-top,  could  not  be  determined  ; 
because,  though,  viewed  from  favorable  points, 
a  blue  summit,  peering  up  away  behind  the 
rest,  will,  as  it  were,  talk  to  you  over  their 
heads,  and  plainly  tell  you,  that,  though  he 
(the  blue  summit)  seems  among  them,  he  is  not 


8  THE      PIAZZA      TALES. 

of  them  (God  forbid !),  and,  indeed,  would  have 
you  know  that  he  considers  himself — as,  to  say 
truth,  he  has  good  right — by  several  cubits 
their  superior,  nevertheless,  certain  ranges, 
here  and  there"  double-filed,  as  in  platoons,  so 
shoulder  and  follow  up  upon  one  another,  with 
their  irregular  shapes  and  heights,  that,  from 
the  piazza,  a  riigher  and  lower  mountain  will, 
in  most  states  of  the  atmosphere,  efFacingly 
shade  itself  away  into  a  higher  and  further  one  ; 
that  an  object,  bleak  on  the  former's  crest,  will, 
for  all  that,  appear  nested  in  the  latter's  flank. 
These  mountains,  somehow,  they  play  at  hide- 
and-seek,  and  all  before  one's  eyes. 

But,  be  that  as  it  may,  the  spot  in  question 
was,  at  all  events,  so  situated  as  to  be  only 
visible,  and  then  but  vaguely,  under  certain 
witching  conditions  of  light  and  shadow. 

Indeed,  for  a  year  or  more,  I  knew  not  there 
was  such  a  spot,  and  might,  perhaps,  have  never 
known,  had  it  not  been  for  a  wizard  afternoon 
in  autumn — late  in  autumn — a  mad  poet's  after 
noon  ;  when  the  turned  maple  woods  in  the 
broad  basin  below  me,  having  lost  their  first 
vermilion  tint,  dully  smoked,  like  smouldering 


THEPIAZZA.  9 

towns,  when  flames  expire  upon  their  prey; 
and  rumor  had  it,  that  this  smokiness  in  the 
general  air  was  not  all  Indian  summer — which 
was  not  used  to  be  so  sick  a  thing,  however 
mild — but,  in  great  part,  was  blown  from  far- 
off  forests,  for  weeks  on  fire,  in  Vermont ;  so 
that  no  wonder  the  sky  was  ominous  as' He 
cate's  cauldron — and  two  sportsmen,  crossing 
a  red  stubble  buck-wheat  field,  seemed'  guilty 
Macbeth  and  foreboding  Bariquo ;  and  the  her 
mit-sun,  hutted  in  an  Adullum  cave,  well  to 
wards  the  south,  according  to  his  season,  did 
little  else  but,  by  indirect  reflection  of  narrow 
rays  shot  down  a  Simplon  pass  among  the 
clouds,  just  steadily  paint  one  small,  round, 
strawberry  mole  upon  the  wan  cheek  of  north 
western  hills.  Signal  as  a  candle.  One  spot 
of  radiance,  where  all  else  was  shade. 

Fairies  there,  thought  I ;  some  haunted  ring 
where  fairies  dance. 

Time  passed  ;  and  the  following  May,  after  a 
gentle  shower  upon  the  mountains — a  little 
shower  islanded  in  misty  seas  of  sunshine  ;  such 
a  distant  shower — and  sometimes  two,  and 

three,  and  four  of  them,  all  visible  together  in 
1*  « 


10  THE      PIAZZA      TALES. 

different  parts — as  I  love  to  watch  from  the 
piazza,  instead  of  thunder  storms,  as  I  used  to, 
which  wrap  old  Greylock,  like  a  Sinai,  till  one 
thinks  swart  Moses  must  be  climbing  among 
scathed  hemlocks  there ;  after,  I  say,  that 
gentle  shower,  I  saw  a  rainbow,  resting  its 
further  end  just  where,  in  autumn,  I  had 
marked  the  mole.  Fairies  there,  thought  I ; 
remembering  that  rainbows  bring  out  the 
blooms,  and  that,  if  one  can  but  get  to  the 
rainbow's  end,  his  fortune  is  made  in  a  bag  of 
gold.  Yon  rainbow's  end,  would  I  were  there, 
•  thought  I.  And  none  the  less  I  wished  it,  for 
now  first  noticing  what  seemed  .some  sort  of 
glen,  or  grotto,  in  the  mountain,  side  ;  at  least, 
whatever  it  was,  viewed  through  the  rainbow's 
medium,  it  glowed  like  the  Potosi  mine.  But 
a  work-a-day  neighbor  said,  no  doubt  it  was 
but  some  old  barn — an  abandoned  one,  its 
broadside  beaten  in,  the  acclivity  its  back 
ground.  But  I,  though  I  had  never  been  there, 
I  knew  better. 

A  few  days  after,  a  cheery  sunrise  kindled  a 
golden  sparkle  in  the  same  spot  as  before. 
The  sparkle  was  of  that  vividness,  it  seemed  as 


T  II  E      PIAZZA.  11 

if  it  could  only  come  from  glass.  The  build 
ing,  then — if  building,  after  all,  it  was — could, 
at  least,  not  be  a  barn,  much  less  an  abandoned 
one  ;  stale  hay  ten  years  musting  in  it.  No; 
if  aught  built  by  mortal,  it  must  be  a  cottage  ; 
perhaps  long  vacant  and  dismantled,  but  this 
very  spring  magically  fitted  up  and  glazed. 

Again,  one  noon,  in.  the  same  direction,  I 
marked,  over  .dimmed  tops  of  terraced  foliage, 
a  broader  gleam,  as  of  a  silver  buckler,  held 
sunwards  over  some  crouch er's  head ;  which 
gleam,  experience  in  like  cases  taught,  mus^t 
come  from  a  roof  newly  shingled.  This,  to 
me,  made  pretty  sure  the  recent  occupancy  of 
that  far  cot  in  fairy  land. 

Day  after  day,  now,  full  of  interest  in  my 
discovery,  what  time  I  could  spare  from  reading 
the  Midsummer's  Night  Dream,  and  all  about 
Titariia,  wishfully  I  gazed  off  to  wards  the  hills  : 
but  in  vain.  Either  troops  of  shadows,  an 
imperial  guard,  with  slow  pace  and  solemn, 
defiled  along  the  steeps ;  or,  routed  by  pursuing 
light,  fled  broadcast  from  east  to  \vest — old 
wars  of  Lucifer  and  Michael  ;  or  the  mountains, 
though  um'pxod  by  these  mirrored  shnm  fights 


12  THE     PIAZZA      TALES. 

in  the  sky,  had  an  atmosphere  otherwise  un 
favorable  for  fairy  views.  I  wras  sorry  ;  the 
more  so,  because  I  had  to  keep  my  chamber 
for  some  time  after — wrhich  chamber  did  not 
face  those  hills. 

At  length,  when  pretty  well  again,  and  sit 
ting  out,  in  the  September  morning,  upon  the 
piazza,  and  thinking  to  myself,  when,  just  after 
a  little  flock  of  sheep,  the  farmer's  banded 
children  passed,  a-nutting,  and  said,  "  How 
sweet  a  day  " — it  was,  after  all,  but  what  their 
fathers  call  a  weather-breeder — and,  indeed, 
was  become  so  sensitive  through  my  illness,  as 
that  I  could  not  bear  to  look  upon  a  Chinese 
creeper  of  my  adoption,  and  which,  to  my 
delight,  climbing  a  post  of  the  piazza,  had 
burst  out  in  starry  bloom,  but  now,  if  you 
removed  the  leaves  a  little,  showed  millions  of 
strange,  cankerous  w^orms,  which,  feeding  upon 
those  blossoms,  so  shared  their  blessed  hue,  as 
to  make  it  unblessed  evermore — worms,  W7hose 
germs  had  doubtless  lurked  in  the  veiy  bulb 
which,  so  hopefully,  I  had  planted :  in  this  in- 
grate  peevishness  of  my  weary  convalescence, 
was  I  sitting  there ;  when,  suddenly  looking 


THE     PIAZZA.  13 

off,  I  saw  the  golden  mountain-window,  daz 
zling  like  a  deep-sea  dolphin.  Fairies  there, 
thought  I,  once  more ;  the  queen  of  fairies  at 
her  fairy-window ;  at  any  rate,  some  glad 
mountain-girl ;  it  will  do  me  good,  it  will  cure 
this  weariness,  to  look  on  her.  No  more;  I'll 
launch  my  yawl — ho,  cheerly,  heart !  and  push 
away  for  fairy-land — for  rainbow's  end,  in  fairy 
land. 

How  to  get  to  fairy-land,  by  what  road,  I 
did  not  know  ;  nor  could  any  one  inform  me ; 
not  even  one  Edmund  Spenser,  who  had  been 
there — so  he  wrote  me — further  than  that  to 
reach  fairy-land,  it  must  be  voyaged  to,  and 
with  faith.  I  took  the  fairy-mountain's  bearings, 
and  the  first  fine  day,  when  strength  permitted, 
got  into  my  yawl — high-pommeled,  leather 
one — cast  off  the  fast,  and  away  I  sailed,  free 
voyager  as  an  autumn  leaf.  Early  dawn  ;  and, 
sallying  westward,  I  sowed  the  morning  before 
me. 

Some  miles  brought  me  nigh  the  hills ;  but 
out  of  present  sight  of  them.  I  was  not  lost ; 
for  road-side  golden-rods,  as  guide-posts,  point 
ed,  I  doubted  not,  the  way  to  the  golden  win- 


14  THE      PIAZZA      TALES. 

dow.  Following  them,  I  came  to  a  lone  and 
languid  region,  where  the  grass-grown  ways 
were  traveled  but  by  drowsy  cattle,  that,  less 
waked  than  stirred  by  day,  seemed  to  walk  in 
sleep.  Browse,  they  did  not — the  enchanted 
never  eat.  At  least,  so  says  Don  Quixote,  that 
sagest  sage  that  ever  lived. 

On  I  went,  and  gained  at  last  the  fairy 
mountain's  base,  but  saw  yet  no  fairy  ring. 
A  pasture  rose  before  me.  Letting  down 
five  mouldering  bars — so  moistly  green,  they 
seemed  fished  up  from  some  sunken  wreck — a 
wigged  old  Aries,  long-visaged,  and  with  crum 
pled  horn,  came  snuffing  up  ;  and  then,  retreat 
ing,  decorously  led  on  along  a  milky- way  of 
white-weed,  past  dim-clustering  Pleiades  and 
Hyades,  of  small  forget-me-nots ;  and  would 
have  led  me  further  still  his  astral  path,  but  for 
golden  flights  of  yellow-birds — pilots,  surely, 
to  the  golden  window,  to  one  side  flying  before 
me,  from  bush  to  bush,  towards  deep  woods — 
which  woods  themselves  were  luring — and, 
somehow,  lured,  too,  by  their  fence,  banning  a 
dark  road,  which,  however  dark,  led  up.  I 
pushed  through ;  when  Aries,  renouncing  me 


.    THE      PIAZZA.  15 

now  for  some  lost  soul,  wheeled,  and  went  his 
wiser  way.  Forbidding  and  forbidden  ground 
— to  him. 

A  winter  wood  road,  matted  all  along  with 
winter-green.  By  the  side  of  pebbly  waters — 
waters  the  cheerier  for  their  solitude ;  beneath 
swaying  fir-boughs,  petted  by  no  season,  but 
still  green  in  all,  on  I  journeyed — my  horse  and 
I ;  on,  by  an  old  saw-mill,  bound  down  and 
hushed  with  vines,  that  his  grating  voice  no 
more  was  heard ;  on,  by  a  deep  flume  clove 
through  snowy  marble,  vernal-tinted,  where 
freshet  eddies  had,  on  each  side,  spun  out 
empty  chapels  in  the  living  rock ;  on,  where 
Jacks-in-the-pulpit,  like  their  Baptist  name 
sake,  preached  but  to  the  wilderness;  on, 
where  a  huge,  cross-grain  block,  fern-bedded, 
showed  where,  in  forgotten  times,  man  after 
man  had  tried  to  split  it,  but  lost  his  wedges 
for  his  pains — which  wedges  yet  rusted  in  their 
holes ;  on,  where,  ages  past,  in  step-like  ledges 
of  a  cascade,  skull-hollow  pots  had  been 
churned  out  by  ceaseless  whirling  of  a  flint- 
stone — ever  wearing,  but  itself  unworn  ;  on, 
by 'wild  rapids  pouring  into  a  secret  pool,  but 


16  THE      PIAZZA.      TALES. 

soothed  by  circling  there  awhile,  issued  forth 
serenely  ;  on,  to  less  broken  ground,  and  by  a 
little  ring,  where,  truly,  fairies  must  have 
danced,  or  else  some  wrheel-tire  been  heated — 
for  all  was  bare;  still  on,  and  up,  and  out  into 
a  hanging  orchard,  where  maidenly  looked 
down  upon  me  a  crescent  moon,  from  morning. 

My  horse  hitched  low  his  head.  Red  apples 
rolled  before  him  ;  Eve's  apples ;  seek-no-fur- 
thers.  He  tasted  one,  I  another ;  it  tasted  of  the 
ground.  Fairy  land  not  yet,  thought  I,  flinging 
my  bridle  to  a  humped  old  tree,  that  crooked 
out  an  arm  to  catch  it.  For  the  way  now  lay 
where  path  was  none,  and  none  might  go  but 
by  himself,  and  only  go  by  daring.  Through 
blackberry  brakes  that  tried  to  pluck  me  back, 
though  I  but  strained  towrards  fruitless  growths 
of  mountain-laurel ;  up  slippery  steeps  to  barren 
heights,  where  stood  none  to  welcome.  Fairy 
land  not  yet,  thought  I,  though  the  morning  is 
here  before  me. 

Foot-sore  enough  and  weary,  I  gained  not 
then  my  journey's  end,  but  came  ere  long  to  a 
craggy  pass,  dipping  towards  growing  regions 
still  beyond.  A  zigzag  road,  half  overgrown 


THE     PIAZZA.  17 

with  blueberry  bushes,  here  turned  among  the 
cliffs.  A  rent  was  in  their  ragged  sides  ;  through 
it  a  little  track  branched  off,  which,  upwards 
threading  that  short  defile,  came  breezily  out 
above,  to  where  the  mountain-top,  part  shelter 
ed  northward,  by  a  taller  brother,  sloped  gently 
off  a  space,  ere  darkly  plunging ;  and  here, 
among  fantastic  rocks,  reposing  in  a  herd,  the 
foot-track  wound,  half  beaten,  up  to  a  little,  low- 
storied,  grayish  cottage,  capped,  nun-like,  with  a 
peaked  roof. 

On  one  slope,  the  roof  was  deeply  weather- 
stained,  and,  nigh  the  turfy  eaves-trough,  all 
velvet-napped  ;  no  doubt  the  snail-monks  found 
ed  mossy  priories  there.  The  other  slope  was 
newly  shingled.  On  the  north  side,  doorless 
and  windowless,  the  clap-boards,  innocent  of 
paint,  were  yet  green  as  the  north  side  of 
lichened  pines,  or  copperless  hulls  of  Japanese 
junks,  becalmed.  The  whole  base,  like  those 
of  the  neighboring  rocks,  was  rimmed  about 
with  shaded  streaks  of  richest  sod  ;  for,  with 
hearth-stones  in  fairy  land,  the  natural  rock, 
though  housed,  preserves  to  the  last,  just  as  in 
open  fields,  its  fertilizing  charm ;  only,  by  ne- 


18  THE     PIAZZA      TALES. 

cessity,  working  now  at  a  remove,  to  the  sward 
without.  So,  at  least,  says  Oberon,  grave 
authority  in  fairy  lore.  Though  setting  Oberon 
aside,  certain  it  is,  thai,  even  in  the  common 
world,  the  soil,  close  up  to  farm-houses,  as  close 
up  to  pasture  rocks,  is,  even  though  untended, 
ever  richer  than  it  is  a  few  rods  off — such 
gentle,  nurturing  heat  is  radiated  there. 

But  with  this  cottage,  the  shaded  streaks 
were  richest  in  its  front  and  about  its  entrance, 
where  the  ground-sill,  and  especially  the  door- 
sill  had,  through  long  eld,  quietly  settled  down. 

No  fence  was  seen,  no  inclosure.  Near  by 
— ferns,  ferns,  ferns  :  further — woods,  woods, 
woods ;  beyond — mountains,  mountains,  moun 
tains  ;  then — sky,  sky,  sky.  Turned  out  in  aerial 
commons,  pasture  for  the  mountain  moon. 
Nature,  and  but  nature,  house  and  all ;  even 
a  low  cross-pile  of  silver  birch,  piled  openly, 
to  season  ;  up  among  whose  silvery  sticks,  as 
through  the  fencing  of  some  sequestered  grave, 
sprang  vagrant  raspberry  bushes — willful  as- 
sertors  of  their  right  of  way. 

The  foot-track,  so  dainty  narrow,  just  like  a 
sheep-track,  led  through  long  ferns  that  lodged. 


THE      PIAZZA.  19 

Fairy  land  at  last,  thought  I ;  Una  and  her  lamb 
dwell  here.  Truly,  a  small  abode — mere  palan 
quin,  set  down  on  the  summit,  in  a  pass  between 
two  worlds,  participant  of  neither. 

A  sultry  hour,  and  I  wore  a  light  hat,  of 
yellow  sinnet,  with  white  duck  trowsers — both 
relics  of  my  tropic  sea-going.  Clogged  in  the 
muffling  ferns,  I  softly  stumbled,  staining  the 
knees  a  sea-green. 

Pausing  at  the  threshold,  or  rather  where 
threshold  once  had  been,  I  saw,  through  the 
open  door-way,  a  lonely  girl,  sewing  at  a  lonely 
window.  A  pale-cheeked  girl,  and  fly-specked 
window,  with  wasps  about  the  mended  upper 
panes.  I  spoke.  She  shyly  started,  like  some 
Tahiti  girl,  secreted  fora  sacrifice,  first  catching 
sight,  through  palms,  of  Captain  Cook.  Ke- 
covering,  she  bade  me  enter ;  with  her  apron 
brushed  off  a  stool ;  then  silently  resumed  her 
own.  With  thanks  I  took  the  stool ;  but  now, 
for  a  space,  I,  too,  was  mute.  This,  then,  is  the 
fairy-mountain  house,  and  here,  the  fairy  queen 
sitting  at  her  fairy  window. 

I  went  up  to  it.  Downwards,  directed  by 
the  tunneled  pass,  as  through  a  leveled  tele- 


20  THE     PIAZZA      TALES. 

scope,  I  caught  sight  of  a  far-off,  soft,  azure 
world.  I  hardly  knew  it,  though  I  came 
from  it. 

"You  must  find  this  view  very  pleasant." 
said  I,  at  last. 

"  Oh,  sir,"  tears  starting  in  her  eyes,  "  the 
first  time  I  looked  out  of  this  window,  I  said 
'  never,  never  shall  I  weary  of  this.' ': 

"  And  what  wearies  you  of  it  now  ?" 

"I  don't  know,"  while  a  tear  fell ;  "  but  it  is 
not  the  view,  it  is  Marian na." 

Some  months  back,  her  brother,  only  seven 
teen,  had  come  hither,  a  long  way  from  the 
other  side,  to  cut  wood  and  burn  coal,  and  she, 
elder  sister,  had  accompanied  him.  Long  had 
they  been  orphans,  and  now,  sole  inhabitants 
of  the  sole  house  upon  the  mountain.  No  guest 
came,  no  traveler  passed.  The  zigzag,  perilous 
road  was  only  used  at  seasons  by  the  coal  wag 
ons.  The  brother  was  absent  the  entire  day, 
sometimes  the  entire  night.  When  at  evening, 
fagged  out,  he  did  come  home,  he  soon  left  his 
bench,  poor  fellow,  for  his  bed  ;  just  as  one,  at 
last,  wearily  quits  that,  too,  for  still  deeper  rest. 
The  bench,  the  bed,  the  grave. 


THE      PIAZZA.  21 

Silent  I  stood  by  the  fairy  window,  while 
these  things  were  being  told. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  she  at  last,  as  stealing 
from  her  story,  "  do  you  know  wTho  lives  yon 
der? — I  have  never  been  down  into  that  country 
— away  off  there,  I  mean  ;  that  house,  that 
marble  one,"  pointing  far  across  the  lower 
landscape;  " have  you  not  caught  it ?  there,  on 
the  long  hill-side  :  the  field  before,  the  woods 
behind  ;  the  white  shines  out  against  their  blue  ; 
don't  you  mark  it  ?  the  only  house  in  sight." 

I  looked  ;  and  after  a  time,  to  my  surprise, 
recognized,  more  by  its  position  than  its  aspect, 
or  Marianna's  description,  my  own  abode,  glim 
mering  much  like  this  mountain  one  from  the 
piazza.  The  mirage  haze  made  it  appear  less  a 
farm-house  than  King  Charming's  palace. 

"  I  have  often  wrondered  who  lives  there  ; 
but  it  must  be  some  happy  one;  again  this 
morning  was  I  thinking  so." 

"  Some  happy  one,"  returned  I,  starting ; 
"and  why  do  you  think  that?  You  judge  some 
rich  one  lives  there  ?" 

"  Rich  or  not,  I  never  thought ;  but  it  looks 
so  happy,  I  can't  tell  how ;  and  it  is  so  far 


22  THE     PIAZZA      TALES. 

away.  Sometimes  I  think  I  do  but  dream  it  is 
there.  You  should  see  it  in  a  sunset." 

"  No  doubt  the  sunset  gilds  it  finely ;  but  not 
more  than  the  sunrise  does  this  house,  per 
haps." 

"  This  house  ?  The  sun  is  a  good  sun,  but  it 
never  gilds  this  house.  Why  should  it  ?  This 
old  house  is  rotting.  That  makes  it  so  mossy. 
In  the  morning,  the  sun  comes  in  at  this  old 
window,  to  be  sure — boarded  up,  when  first  we 
came  ;  a  window  I  can't  keep  clean,  do  what  I 
may— and  half  burns,  and  nearly  blinds  me  at 
my  sewing,  besides  setting  the  flies  and  wasps 
astir — such  flies  and  wasps  as  only  lone  moun 
tain  houses  know.  See,  here  is  the  curtain 
— this  apron — I  try  to  shut  it  out  with  then. 
It  fades  it,  you  see.  Sun  gild  this  house  ?  not 
that  ever  Marianna  saw." 

"  Because  when  this  roof  is  gilded  most,  then 
you  stay  here  within." 

"  The  hottest,  weariest  hour  of  day,  you 
mean?  Sir,  the  sun  gilds  not  this  roof.  It 
leaked  so,  brother  newly  shingled  all  one  side. 
Did  you  not  see  it?  The  north  side,  where 
the  sun  strikes  most  on  what  the  rain  has  wet- 


THE      PIAZZA.  23 

ted.  The  sun  is  a  good  sun ;  but  this  roof,  it 
first  scorches,  and  then  rots.  ,  An  old  house. 
They  went  West,  and  are  long  dead,  they  say, 
who  built  it.  A  mountain  house.  In  winter 
no  fox  could  den  in  it.  That  chimney-place 
has  been  blocked  up  with  snow,  just  like  a 
hollow  stump." 

"Yours  are  strange  fancies,  Marianna." 

"They  but  reflect  the  things." 

"  Then  I  should  have  said,  '  These  are 
strange  things,'  rather  than,  '  Yours  are  strange 
fancies.'  " 

"  As  you  will ;"  and  took  up  her  sewing. 

Something  in  those  quiet  words,  or  in  that 
quiet  act,  it  made  me  mute  again  ;  while,  not 
ing,  through  the  fairy  window,  a  broad  shadow 
stealing  on,  as  cast  by  some  gigantic  condor, 
floating  at  brooding  poise  on  outstretched  wings, 
I  marked  how,  by  its  deeper  and  inclusive 
dusk,  it  wiped  away  into  itself  all  lesser  shades 
of  rock  or  fern. 

"  You  watch  the  cloud,"  said  Marianna. 

"  No,  a  shadow;  a  cloud's,  no  doubt — though 
that  I  cannot  see.  How  did  you  know  it? 
Your  eyes  are  on  your  work." 


24  THE      PIAZZA      TALES. 

"It  dusked  my  work.  There,  now  the  cloud 
is  gone,  Tray  cgmes  back." 

"How?" 

"  The  dog,  the  shaggy  dog.  At  noon,  he 
steals  off,  of  himself,  to  change  his  shape — 
returns,  and  lies  dowTi  awhile,  nigh  the  door. 
Don't  you  see  him  ?  His  head  is  turned  round 
at  you ;  though,  when  you  came,  he  looked 
before  him." 

"  Your  eyes  rest  but  on  your  work  ;  what  do 
you  speak  of?" 

"  By  the  window,  crossing." 

"  You  mean  this  shaggy  shadow — the  nigh 
one  ?  And,  yes,  now  that  I  mark  it,  it  is  not 
unlike  a  large,  black  Newfoundland  dog.  The 
invading  shadow  gone,  the  invaded  one  returns. 
But  I  do  not  see  what  casts  it." 

"  For  that,  you  must  go  without." 

"  One  of  those  grassy  rocks,  no  doubt." 

"You  see  his  head,  his  face?" 

"  The  shadow's  ?  You  speak  as  if  you  saw 
it,  and  all  the  time  your  eyes  are  on  your 
work." 

"  Tray  looks  at  you,"  still  without  glancing 
up  ;  "  this  is  his  hour  ;  I  see  him." 


THE      PIAZZA.  "25 

"  Have  you,  then,  so  long  sat  at  this  mountain- 
window,  where  but  clouds  and  vapors  pass, 
that,  to  you,  shadows  are  as  things,  though 
you  speak  of  them  as  of  phantoms;  that,  by 
familiar  knowledge,  working  like  a  second 
sight,  you  can,  without  looking  for  them, 
tell  just  where  they  are,  though,  as  having 
mice-like  feet,  they  creep  about,  and  come 
and  go ;  that,  to  you,  these  lifeless  shadows 
are  as  living  friends,  who,  though  out  of 
sight,  are  not  out  of  mind,  even  in  their  faces 
—is  it  so?" 

"  That  way  I  never  thought  of  it.  But  the 
friendliest  one,  that  used  to  soothe  my  weari 
ness  so  much,  coolly  quivering  on  the  ferns,  it 
was  taken  from  me,  never  to  return,  as  Tray 
did  just  nowr.  The  shadow  of  a  birch.  The 
tree  was  struck  by  lightning,  and  brother  cut  it 
up.  You  saw  the  cross-pile  out-doors — the 
buried  root  lies  under  it ;  but  not  the  shadow. 
That  is  flown,  and  never  will  come  back,  nor 
ever  anywhere  stir  again." 

Another  cloud  here  stole  along,  once  more 
blotting  out  the  dog,  and  blackening  all  the 
mountain ;  while  the  stillness  was  so  still, 


26  THE     PIAZZA      TALES. 

deafness  might  have  forgot  itself,  or  else  be 
lieved  that  noiseless  shadow  spoke. 

"  Birds,  Mariarma,  singing-birds,  I  hear  none ; 
I  hear  nothing.  Boys  and  bob-o-links,  do  they 
never  come  a-berrying  up  here  ?" 

"  Birds,  I  seldom  hear ;  boys,  never.  The 
berries  mostly  ripe  and  fall — few,  but  me,  the 
wiser." 

"  But  yellow-birds  showed  me  the  way — 
part  way,  at  least." 

"And  then  flew  back.  I  guess  they  play 
about  the  mountain-side,  but  don't  make  the 
top  their  home.  And  no  doubt  you  think 
that,  living  so  lonesome  here,  knowing  nothing, 
hearing  nothing — little,  at  least,  but  sound  of 
thunder  and  the  fall  of  trees — never  reading, 
seldom  speaking,  yet  ever  wakeful,  this  is  what 
gives  me  my  strange  thoughts — for  so  you  call 
them-r-this  weariness  and  wakefulness  together. 
Brother,  who  stands  arid  works  in  open  air, 
would  I  could  rest  like  him  ;  but  mine  is  mostly 
but  dull  woman's  work — sitting,  sitting,  rest 
less  sitting." 

"  But,  do  you  not  go  walk  at  times?  These 
woods  are  wide." 


THE      PIAZZA.  27 

"  And  lonesome ;  lonesome,  because  so  wide. 
Sometimes,  'tis  true,  of  afternoons,  I  go  a  little 
way ;  but  soon  come  back  again.  Better  feel 
lone  by  hearth,  than  rock.  The  shadows  here 
abouts  I  know  —  those  in  the  woods  are 
strangers." 

"  But  the  night  ?" 

"  Just  like  the  day.  Thinking,  thinking — a 
wheel  I  cannot  stop  ;  pure  want  of  sleep  it  is 
that  turns  it." 

"  I  have  heard  that,  for  this  wakeful  weari 
ness,  to  say  one's  prayers,  and  then  lay  one's 
head  upon  a  fresh  hop  pillow " 

"Look!" 

Through  the  fairy  window,  she  pointed 
down  the  steep  to  a  small  garden  patch  near  by 
— mere  pot  of  rifled  loam,  half  rounded  in  by 
sheltering  rocks — where,  side  by  side,  some  feet 
apart,  nipped  and  puny,  two  hop-vines  climbed 
two  poles,  and,  gaining  their  tip-ends,  would 
have  then  joined  over  in  an  upward  clasp,  but 
the  baffled  shoots,  groping  awhile  in  empty 
air,  trailed  back  whence  they  sprung. 

"You  have  tried  the  pillow,  then?" 

"  Yes." 


28  THE   PIAZZA    TALES. 

"And  prayer?" 

"  Prayer  and  pillow." 

"  Is  there  no  other  cure,  or  charm  ?" 

"  Oh,  if  I  could  but  once  get  to  yonder 
house,  and  but  look  upon  whoever  the  happy 
being  is  that  lives  there  !  A  foolish  thought : 
why  do  I  think  it  ?  Is  it  that  I  live  so  lone 
some,  and  know  nothing  ?" 

"  I,  too,  know  nothing ;  and,  therefore,  can 
not  answer ;  but,  for  your  sake,  Marianna,  well 
could  wish  that  I  were  that  happy  one  of  the 
happy  house  you  dream  you  see  ;  for  then  you 
would  behold  him  now,  and,  as  you  say,  this 
weariness  might  leave  you." 

— Enough.  Launching  my  yawl  no  more  for 
fairy-land,  I  stick  to  the  piazza.  It  is  my  box- 
royal  ;  and  this  amphitheatre,  my  theatre  of  San 
Carlo.  Yes,  the  scenery  is  magical — the  illu 
sion  so  complete.  And  Madam  Meadow  Lark, 
my  prima  donna,  plays  her  grand  engagement 
here  ;  and,  drinking  in  her  sunrise  note,  which, 
Memnon-like,  seems  struck  from  the  golden 
window,  how  far  from  me  the  weary  face 
behind  it. 

But,   every  night,   when   the   curtain   falls, 


THE     PIAZZA.  29 

truth  comes  in  with  darkness.  No  light  shows 
from  the  mountain.  To  and  fro  I  walk  the 
piazza  deck,  haunted  by  Marianna's  face,  and 
many  as  real  a  story. 


BARTLEBY, 

I  AM  a  rather  elderly  man.  The  nature  of 
my  avocations,  for  the  last  thirty  years,  has 
brought  me  into  more  than  ordinary  contact 
with  what  would  seem  an  interesting  and  some 
what  singular  set  of  men,  of  whom,  as  yet, 
nothing,  that  I  know  of,  has  ever  been  written 
— -I  mean,  the  law-copyists,  or  scriveners.  I 
have  known  very  many  of  them,  professionally 
and  privately,  and,  if  I  pleased,  could  relate 
divers  histories,  at  which  good-natured  gentle 
men  might  smile,  and  sentimental  souls  might 
weep.  But  I  waive  the  biographies  of  all  other 
scriveners,  for  a  few  passages  in  the  life  of  Bar 
tleby,  who  was  a  scrivener,  the  strangest  I  ever 
saw,  or  heard  of.  While,  of  other  law-copyists, 
I  might  write  the  complete  life,  of  Bartleby  no 
thing  of  that  sort  can  be  done.  I  believe  that 
no  materials  exist,  for  a  full  and  satisfactory 
biography  of  this  man.  It  is  an  irreparable 
loss  to  literature.  Bartleby  was  one  of  those 


32  THE     PIAZZA      TALES. 

beings  of  whom  nothing  is  ascertainable,  except 
from  the  original  sources,  and,  in  his  case,  those 
are  very  small.  What  my  own  astonished  eyes 
saw  of  Bartleby,  that  is  all  I  know  of  him, 
except,,  indeed,  one  vague  report,  which  will 
appear  in  the  sequel. 

Ere  introducing  the  scrivener,  as  he  first 
appeared  to  me,  it  is  fit  I  make  some  mention 
of  myself,  my  employes,  my  business,  my  cham 
bers,  and  general  surroundings ;  because  some 
such  description  is  indispensable  to  an  adequate 
understanding  of  the  chief  character  about  to  be 
presented.  Imprimis  :  I  am  a  man  who,  from 
his  youth  upwards,  has  been  filled  with  a  pro 
found  conviction  that  the  easiest  way  of  life  is 
the  best.  Hence,  though  I  belong  to  a  profes 
sion  proverbially  energetic  and  nervous,  even 
to  turbulence,  at  times,  yet  nothing  of  that  sort 
have  I  ever  suffered  to  invade  my  peace.  I  am 
one  of  those  unambitious  lawyers  who  never 
addresses  a  jury,  or  in  any  way  draws  down 
public  applause;  but,  in  the  cool  tranquillity  of 
a  snug  retreat,  do  a  snug  business  among  rich 
rhen's  bonds,  and  mortgages,  and  title-deeds. 
All  who  know  me,  consider  me  an  eminently 


BARTLEBY.  33 

safe  man.  The  late  John  Jacob  Astor,  a  per 
sonage  little  given  to  poetic  enthusiasm,  had  no 
hesitation  in  pronouncing  my  first  grand  point 
to  be  prudence ;  my  next,  method.  I  do  not 
speak  it  in  vanity,  but  simply  record  the  fact, 
that  I  was  not  unemployed  in  my  profession  by 
the  late  John  Jacob  Astor;  a  name  which,  I 
admit,  I  love  to  repeat ;  for  it  hath  a  rounded 
and  orbicular  sound  to  it,  and  rings  like  unto 
bullion.  I  will  freely  add,  that  I  was  not  in 
sensible  to  the  late  John  Jacob  Astor's  good 
opinion. 

Some  time  prior  to  the  period  at  which  this 
little  history  begins,  my  avocations  had  been 
largely  increased.  The  good  old  office,  now 
extinct  in  the  State  of  New  York,  of  a  Master 
in  Chancery,  had  been  conferred  upon  me.  It 
was  not  a  very  arduous  office,  but  very  pleasant 
ly  remunerative.  I  seldom  lose  my  temper  ; 
much  more  seldom  indulge  in  dangerous  indig 
nation  at  wrongs  and  outrages ;  but,  I  must  be 
permitted  to  be  rash  here,  and  declare,  that  I 
consider  the  sudden  and  violent  abrogation  of 
the  office  of  Master  in  Chancery,  by  the  new 

Constitution,  as  a premature  act ;  inas- 

2* 


34  THE      PIAZZA     TALES, 

much  as  I  had  counted  upon  a  life-lease  of  the 
profits,  whereas  I  only  received  those  of  a  few 
short  years.  But  this  is  by  the  way. 

My  chambers  were  up  stairs,  at  No.  —  Wall 
street.  At  one  end,  they  looked  upon  the  white 
wall  of  the  interior  of  a  spacious  sky-light  shaft, 
penetrating  the  building  from  top  to  bottom. 

This  view  might  have  been  considered  rather 
tame  than  otherwise,  deficient  in  what  land 
scape  painters  call  "  life."  But,  if  so,  the  view 
from  the  other  end  of  my  chambers  offered,  at 
least,  a  contrast,  if  nothing  more.  In  that 
direction,  my  windows  commanded  an  unob 
structed  view  of  a  lofty  brick  wall,  black  by 
age  and  everlasting  shade ;  which  wall  required 
no  spy-glass  to  bring  out  its  lurking  beauties, 
but,  for  the  benefit  of  all  near-sighted  specta 
tors,  was  pushed  up  to  within  ten  feet  of  my 
window  panes.  Owing  to  the  great  height  of 
the  surrounding  buildings,  and  my  chambers 
being  on  the  second  floor,  the  interval  between 
this  wall  and  mine  not  a  little  resembled  a  huge 
square  cistern. 

At  the  period  just  preceding  the  advent  of 
Bartleby,  I  had  two  persons  as  copyists  in  my 


BARTLEBY.  35 

employment,  and  a  promising  lad  as  an  office- 
boy.  First,  Turkey ;  second,  Nippers ;  third, 
Ginger  Nut.  These  may  seem  names,  the  like 
of  which  are  not  usually  found  in  the  Directory. 
In  truth,  they  were  nicknames,  mutually  con 
ferred  upon  each  other  "by  my  three  clerks,  and 
were  deemed  expressive  of  their  respective  per 
sons  or  characters.  Turkey  was  a  short,  pursy 
Englishman,  of  about  my  own  age — that  is, 
somewhere  not  far  from  sixty.  In  the  morning, 
one  might  say,  his  face  was  of  a  fine  florid  hue, 
but  after  twelve  o'clock,  meridian — his  dinner 
hour — it  blazed  like  a  grate  full  of  Christmas 
coals ;  and  continued  blazing—but,  as  it  were, 
with  a  gradual  wane — till  six  o'clock,  P.M.,  or 
thereabouts  ;  after  which,  I  saw  no  more  of  the 
proprietor  of  the  face,  which,  gaining  its  me 
ridian  with  the  sun,  seemed  to  set  with  it,  to 
rise,  culminate,  and  decline  the  following  dajr, 
with  the  like  regularity  and  undiminished  glory. 
There  are  many  singular  coincidences  I  have 
known  in  the  course  of  my  life,  not  the  least 
among  which  was  the  fact,  that,  exactly  when 
Turkey  displayed  his  fullest  beams  from  his  red 
and  radiant  countenance,  just  then,  too,  at  that 


36  THE      PIAZZA      TALES. 

critical  moment,  began  the  daily  period  when  I 
considered  his  business  capacities  as  seriously 
disturbed  for  the  remainder  of  the  twenty-four 
hours.  Not  that  he  was  absolutely  idle,  or 
averse  to  business,  then ;  far  from  it.  The 
difficulty  was,  he  was  apt  to  be  altogether  too 
energetic.  There  was  a  strange,  inflamed,  flur 
ried,  flighty  recklessness  of  activity  about  him. 
He  would  be  incautious  in  clipping  his  pen  into 
his  inkstand.  All  his  blots  upon  my  documents 
were  dropped  there  after  twelve  o'clock,  me 
ridian.  Indeed,  not  only  would  he  be  reckless, 
and  sadly  given  to  making  blots  in  the  after 
noon,  but,  some  days,  he  went  further,  and  was 
rather  noisy.  At  such  times,  too,  his  face 
flamed  with  augmented  blazonry,  as  if  cannel 
coal  had  been  heaped  on  anthracite.  He  made 
an  unpleasant  racket  with  his  chair ;  spilled  his 
sand-box ;  in  mending  his  pens,  impatiently  split 
them  all  to  pieces,  and  threw  them  on  the  floor 
in  a  sudden  passion ;  stood  up,  and  leaned  over 
his  table,  boxing  his  papers  about  in  a  most  inde 
corous  manner,  very  sad  to  behold  in  an  elderly 
man  like  him.  Nevertheless,  as  he  was  in  many 
ways  a  most  valuable  person  to  me,  and  all  the 


BARTLEBY.  37 

time  before  twelve  o'clock,  meridian,  was  the 
quickest,  steadiest  creature,  too,  accomplishing 
a  great  deal  of  work-in  a  style  not' easily  to  be 
matched — for  these  reasons,  I  was  willing  to 
overlook  his  eccentricities,  though,  indeed, 
occasionally,  I  remonstrated  with  him.  I  did 
this  very  gently,  however,  because,  though  the 
civilest,  nay,  the  blandest  and  most  reverential 
of  men  in  the  morning,  yet,  in  the  afternoon,  he 
was  disposed,  upon  provocation,  to  be  slightly 
rash  with  his  tongue — in  fact,  insolent.  Now, 
valuing  his  morning  services  as  I  did,  and  resolved 
not  to  lose  them — yet,  at  the  same  time,  made 
uncomfortable  by  his  inflamed  ways  after  twelve 
o'clock — and  being  a  man  of  peace,  unwilling 
by  my  admonitions  to  call  forth  unseemly 
retorts  from  him,  I  took  upon  me,  one  Saturday 
noon  (he  was  always  worse  on  Saturdays)  to 
hint  to  him,  very  kindly,  that,  perhaps,  now 
that  he  wras  growing  old,  it  might  be  well 
to  abridge  his  labors;  in  short,  he  need  not 
come  to  my  chambers  after  twelve  o'clock,  but, 
dinner  over,  had  best  go  home  to  his  lodgings, 
and  rest  himself  till  tea-time.  But  no ;  he 
insisted  upon  his  afternoon  devotions.  His 


38  THE      PIAZZA      TALES. 

countenance  became  intolerably  fervid,  as  lie 
oratorically  assured  me — gesticulating  with  a 
long  ruler  at  the  other  end  of  the  room — that  if 
his  services  in  the  morning  were  useful,  how 
indispensable,  then,  in  the  afternoon  ? 

"With  submission,  sir,"  said  Turkey,  on  this 
occasion,  "I  consider  myself  your  right-hand 
man.  In  the  morning  I  but  marshal  and  deploy 
my  columns  ;  but  in  the  afternoon  I  put  my 
self  at  their  head,  and  gallantly  charge  the  foe, 
thus  " — and  he  made  a  violent  thrust  with  the 
ruler. 

"  But  the  blots,  Turkey,"  intimated  I. 

"  True ;  but,  with  submission,  sir,  behold 
these  hairs  !  I  am  getting  old.  Surely,  sir,  a 
blot  or  two  of  a  warm  afternoon  is  not  to  be 
severely  urged  against  gray  hairs.  Old  age — 
even  if  it  blot  the  page — is  honorable.  With 
submission,  sir,  we  both  are  getting  old." 

This  appeal  to  my  fellow-feeling  was  hardly 
to  be  resisted.  At  all  events,  I  saw  that  go  he 
would  not.  So,  I  made  up  my  mind  to  let  him 
stay,  resolving,  nevertheless,  to  see  to  it  that, 
during  the  afternoon,  he  had  to  do  with  my  less 
important  papers. 


BARTLEBY.  39 

Nippers,  the  second  on  my  list,  was  a  whisk 
ered,  sallow,  and,  upon  the  whole,  rather  pi 
ratical-looking  young  man,  of  about  five  and 
twenty.  I  always  deemed  him  the  victim  of 
two  evil  powers — ambition  and  indigestion. 
The  ambition  was  evinced  by  a  certain  impa 
tience  of  the  duties  of  a  mere  copyist,  an  un 
warrantable  usurpation  of  strictly  professional 
affairs,  such  as  the  original  drawing  up  of  legal 
documents.  The  indigestion  seemed  betokened 
in  an  occasional  nervous  testiness  and  grinning 
irritability,  causing  the  teeth  to  audibly  grind 
together  over  mistakes  committed  in  copying ; 
unnecessary  maledictions,  hissed,  rather  than 
spoken,  in  the  heat  of  business  ;  and  especially 
by  a  continual  discontent  with  the  height  of  the 
table  where  he  worked.  Though  of  a  very  in 
genious  mechanical  turn,  Nippers  could  never 
get  this  table  to  suit  him.  He  put  chips  under 
it,  blocks  of  various  sorts,  bits  of  pasteboard, 
and  at  last  went  so  far  as  to  attempt  an  exquis 
ite  adjustment,  by  final  pieces  of  folded  blot 
ting-paper.  But  no  invention  wrould  answer. 
If,  for  the  sake  of  easing  his  back,  he  brought 
the  table  lid  at  a  sharp  angle  well  up  towards 


40  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

his  chin,  and  wrote  there  like  a  man  using  the 
steep  roof  of  a  Dutch  house  for  his  desk,  then 
he  declared  that  it  stopped  the  circulation  111 
his  arms.  If  now  he  lowered  the  table  to  his 
waistbands,  and  stooped  over  it  in  writing,  then 
there  w^as  a  sore  aching  in  his  back.  In  short, 
the  truth  of  the  matter  was,  Nippers  knew  not 
what  he  wanted.  Or,  if  he  wanted  anything, 
it  was  to  be  rid  of  a  scrivener's  table  altogether. 
Among  the  manifestations  of  his  diseased  am 
bition  was  a  fondness  he  had  for  receiving  visits 
from  certain  ambiguous-looking  fellows  in  seedy 
coats,  whom  he  called  his  clients.  Indeed,  I 
was  aware  that  not  only  was  he,  at  times,  con 
siderable  of  a  ward-politician,  but  he  occasion 
ally  did  a  little  business  at  the  Justices'  courts, 
and  was  not  unknown  on  the  steps  of  the 
Tombs.  I  have  good  reason  to  believe,  how 
ever,  that  one  individual  who  called  upon  him 
at  my  chambers,  and  who,  with  a  grand  air,  he 
insisted  was  his  client,  was  no  other  than  a  dun, 
and  the  alleged  title-deed,  a  bill.  But,  with 
all  his  failings,  and  the  annoyances  he  caused 
me,  Nippers,  like  his  compatriot  Turkey,  was 
a  very  useful  man  to  me ;  wrote  a  neat,  swift 


BARTLEBY.  41 

hand  ;  and,  when  he  chose,  was  not  deficient  in 
a  gentlemanly  sort  of  deportment.  Added  to 
this,  he  always  dressed  in  a  gentlemanly  sort 
of  way;  and  so,  incidentally,  reflected  credit 
upon  my  chambers.  Whereas,  with  respect  to 
Turkey,  I  had  much  ado  to  keep  him  from 
being  a  reproach  to  me.  His  clothes  were  apt 
to  look  oily,  and  smell  of  eating-houses.  He 
wore  his  pantaloons  very  loose  and  baggy  in 
summer.  His  coats  were  execrable ;  his  hat 
not  to  be  handled.  But  while  the  hat  was  a 
thing  of  indifference  to  me,  inasmuch  as  his 
natural  civility  and  deference,  as  a  dependent 
Englishman,  always  led  him  to  doff  it  the  mo 
ment  he  entered  the  room,  yet  his  coat  was 
another  matter.  Concerning  his  coats,  I  rea 
soned  with  him  ;  but  with  no  effect.  The  truth 
was,  I  suppose,  that  a  man  with  so  small  an 
income  could  not  afford  to  sport  such  a  lus 
trous  face  and  a  lustrous  coat  at  one  and  the 
same  time.  As  Nippers  once  observed,  Turkey's 
money  went  chiefly  for  red  ink.  One  winter 
day,  I  presented  Turkey  with  a  highly  respecta 
ble-looking  coat  of  my  own— a  padded  gray 
coat,  of  a  most  comfortable  warmth,  and  which 


42  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

buttoned  straight  up  from  the  knee  to  the  neck. 
I  thought  Turkey  would  appreciate  the  favor, 
and  abate  his  rashness  and  obstreperousness 
of  afternoons.  But  no ;  I  verily  believe  that 
buttoning  himself  up  in  so  downy  and  blanket- 
like  a  coat  had  a  pernicious  effect  upon  him — 
upon  the  same  principle  that  too  much  oats  are 
bad  for  horses.  In  fact,  precisely  as  a  rash, 
restive  horse  is  said  to  feel  his  oats,  so  Turkey 
felt  his  coat.  It  made  him  insolent.  He  was 
a  man  whom  prosperity  harmed. 

Though,  concerning  the  self-indulgent  habits 
of  Turkey,  I  had  my  own  private  surmises,  yet, 
touching  Nippers,  I  was  well  persuaded  that, 
whatever  might  be  his  faults  in  other  respects, 
he  was,  at  least,  a  temperate  young  man.  But, 
indeed,  nature  herself  seemed  to  have  been 
his  vintner,  and,  at  his  birth,  charged  him  so 
thoroughly  with  an  irritable,  brandy -like  dispo 
sition,  that  all  subsequent  potations  were  need 
less.  When  I  consider  how,  amid  the  stillness 
of  my  chambers,  Nippers  would  sometimes  im 
patiently  rise  from  his  seat,  and  stooping  over 
his  table,  spread  his  arms  wide  apart,  seize  the 
whole  desk,  and  move  it,  and  jerk  it,  with  a 


BARTLEBY.  43 

grim,  grinding  motion  on  the  floor,  as  if  the 
table  were  a  perverse  voluntary  agent,  intent 
on  thwarting  and  vexing  him,  I  plainly  per 
ceive  that,  for  Nippers,  brandy-and-water  were 
altogether  superfluous. 

It  was  fortunate  for  me  that,  owing  to  its 
peculiar  cause — indigestion — the  irritability  and 
consequent  nervousness  of  Nippers  were  mainly 
observable  in  the  morning,  while  in  the  after 
noon  he  was  comparatively  mild.  So  that, 
Turkey's  paroxysms  only  coming  on  about 
twelve  o'clock,  I  never  had  to  do  with  their 
eccentricities  at  one  time.  Their  fits  relieved 
each  other,  like  guards.  When  Nippers's  was 
on,  Turkey's  was  off;  and  vice  versa.  This  was 
a  good  natural  arrangement,  under  the  circum 
stances. 

Ginger  Nut,  the  third  on  my  list,  was  a  lad, 
some  twelve  years  old.  His  father  was  a  car 
man,  ambitious  of  seeing  his  son  on  the  bench 
instead  of  a  cart,  before  he  died.  So  he  sent 
him  to  my  office,  as  student  at  law,  errand-boy, 
cleaner  and  sweeper,  at  the  rate  of  one  dollar 
a  week.  He  had  a  little  desk  to  himself,  but 
he  did  not  use  it  much.  Upon  inspection,  the 


44  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

drawer  exhibited  a  great  array  of  the  shells  of 
various  sorts  of  nuts.  Indeed,  to  this  quick 
witted  youth,  the  whole  noble  science  of  the 
law  was  contained  in  a  nut-shell.  Not  the 
least  among  the  employments  of  Ginger  Nut, 
as  well  as  one  which  he  discharged  with  the 
most  alacrity,  was  his  duty  as  cake  and  apple 
purveyor  for  Turkey  and  Nippers.  Copying 
Jaw-papers  being  proverbially  a  dry,  husky 
sort  of  business,  my  two  scriveners  were  fain 
to  moisten  their  mouths  very  often  with  Spitz- 
enbergs,  to  be  had  at  the  numerous  stalls  nigh 
the  Custom  House  and  Post  Office.  Also,  they 
sent  Ginger  Nut  very  frequently  for  that  pecu 
liar  cake — small,  flat,  round,  and  very  spicy — 
after  which  he  had  been  named  by  them.  Of 
a  cold  morning,  when  business  was  but  dull, 
Turkey  would  gobble  up  scores  of  these  cakes, 
as  if  they  were  mere  wafers — indeed,  they  sell 
them  at  the  rate  of  six  or  eight  for  a  penny — 
the  scrape  of  his  pen  blending  with  the  crunch 
ing  of  the  crisp  particles  in  his  mouth.  Of  all 
the  fiery  afternoon  blunders  and  flurried  rash 
nesses  of  Turkey,  was  his  once  moistening  a 
ginger-cake  between  his  lips,  and  clapping  it 


BARTLEBY.  45 

on  to  a  mortgage,  for  a  seal.  I  came  within  an 
ace  of  dismissing  him  then.  But  he  mollified 
me  by  making  an  oriental  bow,  and  saying — 

"  With  submission,  sir,  it  was  generous  of  me 
to  find  you  in  stationery  on  my  own  account." 

Now  my  original  business — that  of  a  convey 
ancer  and  title  hunter,  and  drawer-up  of  recon 
dite  documents  of  all  sorts — was  considerably 
increased  by  receiving  the  master's  office.  There 
was  now  great  work  for  scriveners.  Not  only 
must  I  push  the  clerks  already  with  me,  but  I 
must  have  additional  help. 

In  answer  to  my  advertisement,  a  motionless 
young  man  one  morning  stood  upon  my  office 
threshold,  the  door  being  open,  for  it  was  sum 
mer.  I  can  see  that  figure  now — pallidly  neat, 
pitiably  respectable,  incurably  forlorn  !  It  was 
Bartleby. 

After  a  few  words  touching  his  qualifications, 
I  engaged  him,  glad  to  have  among  my  corps 
of  copyists  a  man  of  so  singularly  sedate  an  as 
pect,  which  I  thought  might  operate  beneficially 
upon  the  flighty  temper  of  Turkey,  and  the 
fiery  one  of  Nippers. 

I  should  have  stated  before  that  ground  glass 


46  THE      PIAZZA     TALES. 

folding-doors  divided  my  premises  into  two 
parts,  one  of  which  was  occupied  by  my  scriv 
eners,  the  other  by  myself.  According  to  my 
humor,  I  threw  open  these  doors,  or  closed  them. 
I  resolved  to  assign  Bartleby  a  corner  by  the 
folding-doors,  but  on  my  side  of  them,  so  as  to 
have  this  quiet  man  within  easy  call,  in  case  any 
trifling  thing  was  to  be  done.  I  placed  his  desk 
close  up  to  a  small  side-window  in  that  part 
of  the  room,  a  window  which  originally  had 
afforded  a  lateral  view  of  certain  grimy  back 
yards  and  bricks,  but  which,  owing  to  subse 
quent  erections,  commanded  at  present  no  view 
at  all,  though  it  gave  some  light.  Within  three 
feet  of  the  panes  was  a  wall,  and  the  light  came 
down  from  far  above,  between  two  lofty  build 
ings,  as  from  a  very  small  opening  in  a  dome. 
Still  further  to  a  satisfactory  arrangement,  I  pro 
cured  a  high  green  foMki-g  Screen,  which  might 
entirely  isolate  Bartleby  from  my  sight,  though 
not  remove  him  from  my  voice.  And  thus,  in  a 
manner,  privacy  and  society  were  conjoined. 

At  first,  Bartleby  did  an  extraordinary  quan 
tity  of  writing.  As  if  long  famishing  for  some 
thing  to  copy,  he  seemed  to  gorge  himself  on 


BARTLEBY.  47 

my  documents.  There  waft -no  pause  for  diges 
tion.  He  ran  a  day  and  night  line,  copying  by 
sun-light  and  by  candle-light.  I  should  have 
been  quite  delighted  with  his  application,  had 
lie  been  cheerfully  industrious.  But  he  wrote 
on  silently,  palely,  mechanically. 

It  is,  of  course,  an  indispensable  part  of  a 
scrivener's  business  to  verify  the  accuracy  of 
his  copy,  word  by  word.  Where  there  are  two 
or  more  scriveners  in  an  office,  they  assist  each 
other  in  this  examination,  one  reading  from  the 
copy,  the  other  folding  the  original.  It  is  a 
very  dull,  wearisome,  and  lethargic  affair.  I 
can  readily  imagine  that,  to  some  sanguine  tem 
peraments,  it  would  be  altogether  intolerable. 
For  example,  I  cannot  credit  that  the  mettle 
some  poet,  Byron,  would  have  contentedly  sat 
down  with  Bartleby  to  examine  a  law  document 
of,  say  five  hundred  pages,  closely  written  in  a 
crimpy  hand. 

Now  and  then,  in  the  haste  of  business,  it 
had  been  my  habit  to  assist  in  comparing  some 
brief  document  myself,  calling  Turkey  or  Nip 
pers  for  this  purpose.  One  object  I  had,  in 
placing  Bartleby  so  handy  to  me  behind  the 


48  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

screen,  was,  to  avail  myself  of  his  services  on 
such  trivial  occasions.  It  was  on  the  third  day, 
I  think,  of  his  being  with  me,  and  before  any 
necessity  had  arisen  for  having  his  own  writing 
examined,  that,  being  much  hurried  to  complete 
a  small  affair  I  had  in  hand,  I  abruptly  called  to 
Bartleby.  In  my  haste  and  natural  expectancy 
of  instant  compliance,  I  sat  with  my  head  bent 
over  the  original  on  my  desk,  and  my  right 
hand  sideways,  and  somewhat  nervously  ex 
tended  with  the  copy,  so  that,  immediately  upon 
emerging  from  his  retreat,  Bartleby  might 
snatch  it  and  proceed  to  business  without  the 
least  delay. 

In  this  very  attitude  did  I  sit  when  I  called 
to  him,  rapidly  stating  what  it  was  I  wanted 
him  to  do — namely,  to  exxamine  a  small  paper 
with  me.  *  Imagine  my  surprise,  nay,  my  con 
sternation,  when,  without  moving  from  his  pri 
vacy,  Bartleby,  in  a  singularly  mild,  firm  voice, 
replied,  "I  would  prefer  not  to." 

I  sat  awhile  in  perfect  silence,  rallying  my 
stunned  faculties.  Immediately  it  occurred  to 
me  that  my  ears  had  deceived  me,  or  Bartleby 
had  entirely  misunderstood  my  meaning.  I  re- 


B  A  R  T  L  E  B  Y  .  49 

peated  my  request  in  the  clearest  tone  I  could 
assume ;  but  in  quite  as  clear  a  one  came  the 
previous  reply,  "  I  would  prefer  not  to." 

"  Prefer  not  to,"  echoed  I,  rising  in  high  ex 
citement,  and  crossing  the  room  with  a  stride. 
"  What  do  you  mean  ?  Are  you  moon-struck  ? 
I  want  you  to  help  me  compare  this  sheet 
here — take  it,"  and  I  thrust  it  towards  him. 

"  I  would  prefer  not  to,"  said  he. 

I  looked  at  him  steadfastly.  His  face  was 
leanly  composed ;  his  gray  eye  dimly  calm. 
Not  a  wrinkle  of  agitation  rippled  him.  Had 
there  been  the  least  uneasiness,  anger,  impa 
tience  or  impertinence  in  his  manner;  in  other 
words,  had  there  been  any  thing  ordinarily 
human  about  him,  doubtless  I  should  have  vio 
lently  dismissed  him  from  the  premises.  But 
as  it  was,  I  should  have  as  soon  thought  of  turn 
ing  my  pale  plaster-of-paris  bust  of  Cicero  out 
of  doors.  I  stood  gazing  at  him  awhile,  as  he 
went  on  with  his  own  writing,  and  then  reseated 
myself  at  my  desk.  This  is  very  strange, 
thought  I.  What  had  one  best  do  ?  But  my 
business  hurried  me.  I  concluded  to  forget  the 
matter  for  the  present,  reserving  it  for  my 


50  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

future  leisure.  So  calling  Nippers  from  the 
other  room,  the  paper  was  speedily  examined. 

A  few  days  after  this,  Bartleby  concluded 
four  lengthy  documents,  being  quadruplicates 
of  a  week's  testimony  taken  before  me  in  my 
High  Court  of  Chancery.  It  became  necessary 
to  examine  them.  "It  was  an  important  suit, 
and  great  accuracy  was  imperative.  Having 
all  things  arranged,  I  called  Turkey,  Nippers 
and  Ginger  Nut,  from  the  next  room,  meaning 
to  place  the  four  copies  in  the  hands  of  my  four 
clerks,  while  I  should  read  from  the  original. 
Accordingly,  Turkey,  Nippers,  and  Ginger  Nut 
had  taken  their  seats  in  a  row,  each  with  his 
document  in  his  hand,  when  I  called  to  Bartleby 
to  join  this  interesting  group. 

"  Bartleby  !  quick,  I  am  waiting." 

I  heard  a  slow  scrape  of  his  chair  legs  on 
the  uncarpeted  floor,  and  soon  he  appeared 
standing  at  the  entrance  of  his  hermitage. 

"  What  is  wanted  ?"  said  he,  mildly. 

"  The  copies,  the  copies,"  said  I,  hurriedly. 
"We  are  going  to  examine  them.  There" — 
and  I  held  towards  him  the  fourth  quadrupli 
cate. 


BARTLEBY.  51 

"  I  would  prefer  not  to,"  he  said,  and  gently 
disappeared  behind  the  screen. 

For  a  few  moments  I  was  turned  into  a  pillar 
of  salt,  standing  at  the  head  of  my  seated 
column  of  clerks.  Recovering  myself,  I  ad 
vanced  towards  the  screen,  and  demanded  the 
reason  for  such  extraordinary  conduct. 

"  Why  do  you  refuse  ?" 

"  I  would  prefer  not  to." 

With  any  other  man  I  should  have  flown  out 
right  into-a  dreadful  passion,  scorned  all  further 
words,  and  thrust  him  ignominiously  from  my 
presence.  But  there  was  something  about 
Bartleby  that  not  only  strangely  disarmed  me, 
but,  in  a -wonderful  manner,  touched  and  dis 
concerted  me.  I  began  to  reason  with  him. 

"  These  are  your  own  copies  we  are  about 
to  examine.  It  is  labor  saving  to  you,  because 
one  examination  will  answer  for  your  four 
papers.  It  is  common  usage.  Every  copyist 
is  bound  to  help  examine  his  copy.  Is  it  not 
so  ?  Will  you  not  speak  ?  Answer  !" 

"  I  prefer  not  to,"  he  replied  in  a  flutelike 
tone.  It  seemed  to  me  that,  while  I  had  been 
addressing  him,  he  carefully  revolved  every 


52  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

statement  that  I  made  ;  fully  comprehended  the 
meaning;  could  not  gainsay  the  irresistible 
conclusion ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  some  para 
mount  consideration  prevailed  with  him  to  reply 
as  he  did. 

*  You  are  decided,  then,  not  to  comply  with 
my  request — a  request  made  according  to  com 
mon  usage  and  common  sense  ?" 

He  briefly  gave  me  to  understand,  that  on 
that  point  my  judgment  was  sound.  *  Yes  : 
his  decision  was  irreversible. 

It  is  not  seldom  the  case  that,  when  a  man 
is  browbeaten  in  some  unprecedented  and  vio 
lently  unreasonable  way,  he  begins  to  stagger 
in  his  own  plainest  faith.  He  begins,  as  it 
were,  vaguely  to  surmise  that,  wonderful  as 
it  may  be,  all  the  justice  and  all  the  reason  is 
on  the  other  side.  Accordingly,  if  any  disinter 
ested  persons  are  present,  he  turns  to  them  for 
some  reinforcement  for  his  own  faltering  mind. 

"  Turkey,"  said  I,  "  what  do  you  think  of 
this  ?  Am  I  not  right  ?" 

"  With  submission,  sir,"  said  Turkey,  in  his 
blandest  tone,  "  I  think  that  you  are." 

"  Nippers,"  said  I,  "  what  do  you  think  of  it  ?" 


BARTLEBY.  53 

u  I  think  I  should  kick  him  out  of  the  office." 

(The  reader,  of  nice  perceptions,  will  here 
perceive  that,  it  being  morning,  Turkey's  answer 
is  couched  in  polite  and  tranquil  terms,  but 
Nippers  replies  in  ill-tempered  ones.  Or,  to  re 
peat  a  previous  sentence,  Nippers' s  ugly  mood 
was  on  duty,  and  Turkey's  off.) 

"  Ginger  Nut,"  said  I,  willing  to  enlist  the 
smallest  suffrage  in  my  behalf,  "  what  do  you 
think  of  it  ?" 

"  I  think,  sir,  he's  a  little  luny"  replied  Gin 
ger  Nut,  with  a  grin. 

"You  hear  what  they  say,"  said  I,  turning  to 
wards  the  screen,  "come  forth  and  do  your  duty." 

But  he  vouchsafed  no  reply.  I  pondered  a 
moment  in  sore  perplexity.  '  But  once  more 
business  hurried  me.  I  determined  again  to 
postpone  the  consideration  of  this  dilemma  to 
my  future  leisure.  With  a  little  trouble  we 
made  out  to  examine  the  papers  without  Bartle- 
by,  though  at  every  page  or  two  Turkey  de 
ferentially  dropped  his  opinion,  that  this  pro 
ceeding  was  quite  out  of  the  common;  while 
Nippers,  twitching  in  his  chair  with  a  dyspeptic 
nervousness,  ground  out,  between  his  set  teeth, 


54  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

occasional  hissing  maledictions  against  the 
stubborn  oaf  behind  the  screen.  And  for  his 
(Nippers's)  part,  this  was  the  first  and  the  last 
time  he  would  do  another  man's  business  with 
out  pay. 

Meanwhile  Bartleby  sat  in  his  hermitage, 
oblivious  to  everything  but  his  own  peculiar 
business  there. 

Some  days  passed,  the  scrivener  being  em 
ployed  upon  another  lengthy  work.  His  late 
remarkable  conduct  led  me  to  regard  his  ways 
narrowly.  I  observed  that  he  never  went  to 
dinner  ;  indeed,  that  he  never  went  anywhere. 
As  yet  I  had  never,  of  my  personal  knowledge, 
known  him  to  be  outside  of  my  office.  He  was 
a  perpetual  sentry  in  the  corner.  At  about 
eleven  o'clock  though,  in  the  morning,  I  noticed 
that  Ginger  Nut  would  advance  toward  the 
opening  in  Bartleby's  screen,  as  if  silently 
beckoned  thither  by  a  gesture  invisible  to  me 
where  I  sat.  The  boy  would  then  leave  the 
office,  jingling  a  few  pence,  and  reappear  with 
a  handful  of  ginger-nuts,  which  he  delivered 
in  the  hermitage,  receiving  two  of  the  cakes 
for  his  trouble. 


BARTLEEY.  55 

He  lives,  then,  on  ginger-nuts,  thought  I ; 
never  eats  a  dinner,  properly  speaking ;  he 
must  be  a  vegetarian,  then  ;  but  no  ;  he  never 
eats  even  vegetables,  he  eats  nothing  but  ginger- 
nuts.  My  mind  then  ran  on  in  reveries  con 
cerning  the  probable  effects  upon  the  human 
constitution  of  living  entirely  on  ginger-nuts. 
Ginger-nuts  are  so  called,  because  they  contain 
ginger  as  one  of  their  peculiar  constituents,  and 
the  final  flavoring  one.  Now,  what  was  ginger  ? 
A  hot,  spicy  thing.  Was  Bartleby  hot  and 
spicy  ?  Not  at  all.  Ginger,  then,  had  no  effect 
upon  Bartleby.  Probably  he  preferred  it  should 
have  none. 

Nothing  so  aggravates  an  earnest  person  as  a 
passive  resistance.  If  the  individual  so  resisted 
be  of  a  not  inhumane  temper,  and  the  resisting 
one  perfectly  harmless  in  his  passivity,  then,  in 
the  better  moods  of  the  former,  he  will  endea 
vor  charitably  to  construe  to  his  imagination 
what  proves  impossible  to  be  solved  by  his 
judgment.  Even  so,  for  the  most  part,  I  re 
garded  Bartleby  and  his  ways.  Poor  fellow ! 
thought  I,  he  means  no  mischief;  it  is  plain  he 
intends  no  insolence  ;  his  aspect  sufficiently 


56  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

evinces  that  his  eccentricities  are  involuntary. 
He  is  useful  to  me.  I  can  get  along  with  him. 
If  I  turn  him  away,  tlie  chances  are  he  will  fall 
in  with  some  less-indulgent  employer,  and  then 
he  will  be  rudely  treated,  and  perhaps  driven 
forth  miserably  to  starve.  Yes.  Here  I  can 
cheaply  purchase  a  delicious  self-approval.  To 
befriend  Bartleby ;  to  humor  him  in  his  strange 
willfulness,  will  cost  me  little  or  nothing,  while 
I  lay  up  in  my  soul  what  will  eventually  prove 
a  sweet  morsel  for  my  conscience.  But  this 
mood  was  not  invariable  with  me.  The  passive- 
ness  of  Bartleby  sometimes  irritated  me.  I  felt 
strangely  goaded  on  to  encounter  him  in  new 
opposition — to  elicit  some  angry  spark  from  him 
answerable  to  my  own.  But,  indeed,  I  might  as 
well  have  essayed  to  strike  fire  with  my  knuck 
les  against  a  bit  of  Windsor  soap.  But  one 
afternoon  the  evil  impulse  in  me  mastered  me, 
and  the  following  little  scene  ensued  : 

"  Bartleby,"  said  I,  "  when  those  papers  are 
all  copied,  I  will  compare  them  with  you." 

"  I  would  prefer  not  to." 

"  How  ?  Surely  you  do  not  mean  to  persist 
in  that  mulish  vagary  ?" 


BARTLEBY.  57 

No  answer. 

I  threw  open  the  folding-doors  near  by,  and, 
turning  upon  Turkey  and  Nippers,  exclaimed  : 

"  Bartleby  a  second  time  says,  he  won't  ex 
amine  his  papers.  What  do  you  think  of  it, 
Turkey  ?" 

It  was  afternoon,  be  it  remembered.  Turkey 
sat  glowing  like  a  brass  boiler ;  his  bald  head 
steaming  ;  his  hands  reeling  among  his  blotted 
papers. 

"Think  of  it?"  roared  Turkey;  "I  think 
I'll  just  step  behind  his  screen,  and  black  his 
eyes  for  him !" 

So  saying,  Turkey  rose  to  his  feet  and  threw 
his  arms/  into  a  pugilistic  position.  He  was 
hurrying  away  to  make  good  his  promise,  when 
I  detained  him,  alarmed  at  the  effect  of  incau 
tiously  rousing  Turkey's  combativeness  after 
dinner. 

"  Sit  down,  Turkey,"  said  I,  "  and  hear  what 
Nippers  has  to  say.  What  do  you  think  of  it, 
Nippers?  Would  I  not  be  justified  in  immedi 
ately  dismissing  Bartleby  ?" 

"  Excuse  me,  that  is  for  you  to  decide,  sir. 

I  think  his  conduct  quite  unusual,  and,  indeed, 

3* 


58  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

unjust,  as  regards  Turkey  and  myself.  But  it 
may  only  be  a  passing  whim." 

"  Ah,"  exclaimed  I,  "  you  have  strangely 
changed  your  mind,  then — you  speak  very  gent 
ly  of  him' now." 

"All  beer,"  cried  Turkey;  "gentleness  is 
effects  of  beer — Nippers  and  I  dined  together 
to-day.  You  see  how  gentle  I  am,  sir.  Shall  I 
go  and  black  his  eyes "?" 

"  You  refer  to  Bartleby,  I  suppose.  No,  not 
to-day,  Turkey,"  I  replied  ;  "  pray,  put  up  your 
fists." 

I  closed  the  doors,  and  again  advanced  towards 
Bartleby.  I  felt  additional  incentives  tempting 
me  to^my  fate.  I  burned  to  be  rebelled  against 
again.  I  remembered  that  Bartleby  never  left 
the  office. 

"  Bartleby,"  said  I,  "  Ginger  Nut  is  away  ; 
just  step  around  to  the  Post  Office,  won't  you  ? 
(it  was  but  a  three  minutes'  walk),  and  see  if 
there  is  anything  for  me." 

"  I  would  prefer  not  to." 

"  You  will  not  ?" 

"  I  prefer  not." 

I  staggered  to  my  desk,  and  sat  there  in  a 


BARTLE^Y.  50 

deep  study.  My  blind  inveteracy  returned. 
"Was  there  any  other  thing  in  which  I  could  pro 
cure  myself  to  be  ignominiously  repulsed  by 
this  lean,  penniless  wight  ? — my  hired  clerk  ? 
What  added  thing  is  there,  perfectly  reasonable, 
that  he  will  be  sure  to  refuse  to  do  ? 

"  Bartleby !" 

NO  answer. 

"  Bartleby,"  in  a  louder  tone. 

No  answer. 

"  Bartleby,"  I  roared. 

Like  a  very  ghost,  agreeably  to  the  laws  of 
magical  invocation,  at  the  third  summons,  he 
appeared  at  the  entrance  of  his  hermitage. 

"  Go  to  the  next  room,  and  tell  Nippers  to 
come  to  me." 

"  I  prefer  not  to,"  he  respectfully  and  slowly 
said,  and  mildly  disappeared. 

"Very  good,  Bartleby,"  said  I,  in  a  quiet  sort 
of  serenely-severe  self-possessed  tone,  intimat 
ing  the  unalterable  purpose  of  some  terrible  re 
tribution  very  close  at  hand.  At  the  moment  I 
half  intended  something  of  the  kind.  But  upon 
the  whole,  as  it  was  drawing  towards  my  dinner- 
hour,  I  thought  it  best  to  put  on  my  hat  and 


CO  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

walk  home  for  the  day,  suffering  much  from  per 
plexity  and  distress  of  mind. 

Shall  I  acknowledge  it  ?  The  conclusion  of 
this  whole  business  was,  that  it  soon  became  a 
fixed  fact  of  my  chambers,  that  a  pale  young 
scrivener,  by  the  name  of  Bartleby,  had  a  desk 
there ;  that  he  copied  for  me  at  the  usual  rate 
of  four  cents  a  folio  (one  hundred  words)  ;  but 
he  was  permanently  exempt  from  examining  the 
work  done  by  him,  that  duty  being  transferred  to 
Turkey  and  Nippers,  out  of  compliment,  doubt 
less,  to  their  superior  acuteness ;  moreover,  said 
Bartleby  was  never,  on  any  account,  to  be  dis 
patched  on  the  most  trivial  errand  of  any  sort ; 
and  that  even  if  entreated  to  take  upon  him 
such  a  matter,  it  was  generally  understood  that 
he  would  "prefer  not  to" — in  other  words,  that 
he  would  refuse  point-blank. 

As  days  passed  on,  I  became  considerably  re 
conciled  to  Bartleby.  His  steadiness,  his  free 
dom  from  all  dissipation,  his  incessant  industry 
(except  when  he  chose  to  throw  himself  into  a 
standing  revery  behind  his  screen),  his  great 
stillness,  his  unalterableness  of  demeanor  under 
all  circumstances,  made  him  a  valuable  acqui- 


BAKTLEBY.  61 

sition.  One  prime  thing  was  this — he  was 
always  there — first  in  the  morning,  continually 
through  the  day,  and  the  last  at  night.  I  had  a 
singular  confidence  in  his  honesty.  I  felt  my 
most  precious  papers  perfectly  safe  in  his  hands. 
Sometimes,  to  be  sure,  I  could  not,  for  the  very 
soul  of  me,  avoid  falling  into  sudden  spasmodic 
passions  with  him.  For  it  was  exceeding  diffi 
cult  to  bear  in  mind  all  the  time  those  strange 
peculiarities,  privileges,  and  unheard  of  exemp 
tions,  forming  the  tacit  stipulations  on  Bartleby's 
part  under  which  he  remained  in  my  office. 
Now  and  then,  in  the  eagerness  of  dispatching 
pressing  business,  I  would  inadvertently  sum 
mon  Bartleby,  in  a  short,  rapid  tone,  to  put  his 
finger,  say,  on  the  incipient  tie  of  a  bit  of  red 
tape  with  which  I  was  about  compressing  some 
papers.  Of  course,  from  behind  the  screen  the 
usual  answer,  "  I  prefer  not  to,"  was  sure  to 
come ;  and  then,  how  could  a  human  creature, 
with  the  common  infirmities  of  our  nature,  re 
frain  from  bitterly  exclaiming  upon  such  per- 
verseness — such  unreasonableness.  However, 
every  added  repulse  of  this  sort  which  I  received 
only  tended  to  lessen  the  probability  of  my  re 
peating  the  inadvertence. 


62  THE     PIAZZA      TALES. 

Here  it  must  be  said,  that  according  to  the 
custom  of  most  legal  gentlemen  occupying 
chambers  in  densely-populated  law  buildings, 
there  were  several  keys  to  my  door.  One  was 
kept  by  a  woman  residing  in  the  attic,  which 
person  weekly  scrubbed  and  daily  swept  and 
dusted  my  apartments.  Another  was  kept  by 
Turkey  for  convenience  sake.  The  third  I 
sometimes  carried  in  my  own  pocket.  The 
fourth  I  knew  not  who  had. 

Now,  one  Sunday  morning  I  happened  to  go 
to  Trinity  Church,  to  hear  a  celebrated  preach 
er,  and  finding  myself  rather  early  on  the  ground 
I  thought  I  would  walk  round  to  my  chambers 
for  a  while.  Luckily  I  had  my  key  with  me  ; 
but  upon  applying  it  to  the  lock,  I  found  it  re 
sisted  by  something  inserted  from  the  inside. 
Quite  surprised,  I  called  out ;  when  to  my  con 
sternation  a  key  was  turned  from  within  ;  and 
thrusting  his  lean  visage  at  me,  and  holding  the 
door  ajar,  the  apparition  of  Bartleby  appeared, 
in  his  shirt  sleeves,  and  otherwise  in  a  strangely 
tattered  deshabille,  saying  quietly  that  he  was 
sorry,  but  he  was  deeply  engaged  just  then,  and 
— preferred  not  admitting  me  at  present.  In  a 


B  A  R  T  L  E  B  Y  .  63 

brief  word  or  two,  he  moreover  added,  that  per 
haps  I  had  better  walk  round  the  block  two  or 
three  times,  and  by  that  time  ho  would  probably 
have  concluded  his  affairs. 

Now,  the  utterly  unsurmised  appearance  of 
Bartleby,  tenanting  my  law-chambers  of  a  Sun 
day  morning,  with  his  cadaverously  gentlemanly 
nonchalance^  yet  withal  firm  and  self-possessed, 
had  such  a  strange  .effect  upon,  me,  that  in 
continently  I  slunk  away  from  my  own  door, 
and  did  as  desired.  But  not  without  sundry 
twinges  of  impotent  rebellion  against  the  mild 
effrontery  of  this  unaccountable  scrivener.  In 
deed,  it  was  his  wonderful  mildness  chiefly, 
which  not  only  disarmed  me,  but  unmanned  me 
as  it  were.  For  I  consider  that  one,  for  the 
time,  is  a  sort  of  unmanned  when  he  tranquilly 
permits  his  hired  clerk  to  dictate  to  him,  and 
order  him  away  from  his  own  premises.  Fur 
thermore,  I  was  full  of  uneasiness  as  to  what 
Bartleby  could  possibly  be  doing  in  my  office  in 
his  shirt  sleeves,  and  in  an  otherwise  dismantled 
condition  of  a  Sunday  morning.  Was  any 
thing  amiss  going  on  ?  Nay,  that  was  out  of  the 
question.  It  was  not  to  be  thought  of  for  a 


64  THE      PIAZZA     TALES. 

moment  that  Bartleby  was  an  immoral  person. 
But  what  could  he  be  doing  there? — copying? 
Nay  again,  whatever  might  be  his  eccentricities, 
Bartleby  was  an  eminently  decorous  person. 
He  would  be  the  last  man  to  sit  down  to  his 
desk  in  any  state  approaching  to  nudity.  Be 
sides,  it  was  Sunday ;  and  there  was  something 
about  Bartleby  that  forbade  the  supposition 
that  he  would  by  any  secular  occupation  vio 
late  the  proprieties  of  the  day. 

Nevertheless,  my  mind  was  not  pacified  ;  and 
full  of  a  restless  curiosity,  at  last  I  returned  to 
the  door.  Without  hindrance  I  inserted  my  key 
opened  it,  and  entered.  Bartleby  was  not  to  be 
seen.  I  looked  round  anxiously,  peeped  behind 
his  screen  ;  but  it  was  very  plain  that  he  was 
gone.  Upon  more  closely  examining  the  place, 
I  surmised  that  for  an  indefinite  period  Bartle 
by  must  have  ate,  dressed,  and  slept  in  my  office, 
and  that,  too  without  plate,  mirror,  or  bed.  The 
cushioned  seat  of  a  ricketty  old  sofa  in  one 
corner  bore  the  faint  impress  of  a  lean,  reclining 
form.  Rolled  away  under  his  desk,  I  found  a 
blanket ;  under  the  empty  grate,  a  blacking 
box  and  brush ;  on  a  chair,  a  tin  basin,  with 


BARTLEBY.  65 

soap  and  a  ragged  towel ;  in  a  newspaper  a  few 
crumbs  of  ginger-nuts  and  a  morsel  of  cheese. 
Yes,  thought  I,  it  is  evident  enough  that  Bartle- 
by  has  been  making  his  home  here,  keeping 
bachelor's  hall  all  by  himself.  Immediately 
then  the  thought  came  sweeping  across  me, 
what  miserable  friendlessness  and  loneliness  are 
here  revealed  !  His  poverty  is  great ;  but  his 
solitude,  how  horrible  !  Think  of  it.  Of  a  Sun 
day,  Wall-street  is  deserted  as  Petra  ;  and  every 
night  of  every  day  it  is  an  emptiness.  This 
building,  too,  which  of  week-days  hums  with 
industry  and  life,  at  nightfall  echoes  with  sheer 
vacancy,  and  all  through  Sunday  is  forlorn. 
And  here  Bartleby  makes  his  home ;  sole 
spectator  of  a  solitude  which  he  has  seen  all 
populous — a  sort  of  innocent  and  transformed 
Marius  brooding  among  the  ruins  of  Carthage  ! 
For  the  first  time  in  my  life  a  feeling  of  over 
powering  stinging  melancholy  seized  me.  Be 
fore,  I  had  never  experienced  aught  but  a  not 
nnpleasing  sadness.  The  bond  of  a  common 
humanity  now  drew  me  irresistibly  to  gloom. 
A  fraternal  melancholy !  For  both  I  and  Bartle 
by  were  sons  of  Adam.  I  remembered  the 


66  THE      PIAZZA     TALES. 

bright  silks  and  sparkling  faces  I  had  seen  that 
day,  in  gala  trim,  swan-like  sailing  down  the 
Mississippi  of  Broadway ;  and  I  contrasted  them 
with  the  pallid  copyist,  and  thought  to  myself, 
Ah,  happiness  courts  the  light,  so  we  deem  the 
world  is  gay  ;  but  misery  hides  aloof,  so  we 
deem  that  misery  there  is  none.  These  sad 
fancyings — chimeras,  doubtless,  of  a  sick  and 
silly  brain — led  on  to  other  and  more  special 
thoughts,  concerning  the  eccentricities  of  Bar- 
tleby.  Presentiments  of  strange  discoveries 
hovered  round  me.  The  scrivener's  pale  form 
appeared  to  me  laid  out,  among  uncaring  stran 
gers,  in  its  shivering  winding  sheet. 

Suddenly  I  was  attracted  by  Bartleby's  closed 
desk,  the  key  in  open  sight  left  in  the  lock. 

I  mean  no  mischief,  seek  the  gratification  of 
no  heartless  curiosity,  thought  I ;  besides,  the 
desk  is  mine,  and  its  contents,  too,  so  I  will 
make  bold  to  look  within.  Everything  was 
methodically  arranged,  the  papers  smoothly 
placed.  The  pigeon  holes  were  deep,  and  re 
moving  the  files  of  documents,  I  groped  into 
their  recesses.  Presently  I  felt  something  there, 
and  dragged  it  out.  It  was  an  old  bandanna 


BARTLEBY.  67 

handkerchief,  heavy  and  knotted.     I  opened  it, 
and  saw  it  was  a  savings's  bank. 

I  now  recalled  all  the  quiet  mysteries  which 
I  had  noted  in  the  man.  I  remembered  that  he 
never  spoke  but  to  answer ;  that,  though  at  in 
tervals  he  had  considerable  time  to  himself,  yet 
I  had  never  seen  him  reading — no,  not  even  a 
newspaper  ;  that  for  long  periods  he  would 
stand  looking  out,  at  his  pale  window  behind 
the  screen,  upon  the  dead  brick  wall ;  I  was 
quite  sure  he  never  visited  any  refectory  or  eat 
ing  house ;  while  his  pale  face  clearly  indicated 
that  he  never  drank  beer  like  Turkey,  or  tea 
and  coffee  even,  like  other  men  ;  that  he  never 
went  anywhere  in  particular  that  I  could  learn  ; 
never  went  out  for  a  walk,  unless,  indeed,  that 
was  the  case  at  present ;  that  he  had  declined 
telling  who  he  was,  or  whence  he  came,  or 
whether  he  had  any  relatives  in  the  world  ;  that 
though  so  thin  and  pale,  he  never  complained  of 
ill  health.  And  more  than  all,  I  remembered  a 
certain  unconscious  air  of  pallid — how  shall  I 
call  it  ? — of  pallid  haughtiness,  say,  or  rather  an 
austere  reserve  about  him,  which  had  positively 
awed  me  into  my  tame  compliance  with  his 


68  THE    PIAZZA    TALES. 

eccentricities,  when  I  had  feared  to  ask  him  to 
do  the  slightest  incidental  thing  for  me,  even 
though  I  might  know,  from  his  long-continued 
motionlessness,  that  behind  his  screen  he  must 
be  standing  in  one  of  those  dead-wall  reveries  of 
his. 

Eevolving  all  these  things,  and  coupling  them 
with  the  recently  discovered  fact,  that  he  made 
my  office  his  constant  abiding  place  and  home, 
and  not  forgetful  of  his  morbid  moodiness  ;  re 
volving  all  these  ,  things,  a  prudential  feeling 
began  to  steal  over  me.  My  first  emotions  had 
been  those  of  pure  melancholy  and  sincerest 
pity  ;  but  just  in  proportion  as  the  forlornness 
of  Bartleby  grew  and  grew  to  my 'imagination, 
did  that  same  melancholy  merge  into  fear,  that 
pity  into  repulsion.  So  true  it  is,  and  so  terri 
ble,  too,  that  up  to  a  certain  point  the  thought 
or  sight  of  misery  enlists  our  best  affections  ; 
but,  in  certain  special  cases,  beyond  that  point  it 
oloes  not.  They  err  who  would  assert  that  in 
variably  this  is  owing  to  the  inherent  selfishness 
of  the  human  heart.  It  rather  proceeds  from  a 
certain  hopelessness  of  remedying  excessive  and 
organic  ill.  To  a  sensitive  being,  pity  is  not  sel- 


BARTLEBY.  69 

dom  pain.  And  when  at  last  it  is  perceived 
that  such  pity  cannot  lead  to  effectual  succor, 
common  sense  bids  the  soul  be  rid  of  it.  What 
I  saw  that  morning  persuaded  me  that  the 
scrivener  was  the  victim  of  innjate  andincurable 
disorder.  I  might  give  alms  to  his  body ;  but 
his  body  did  not  pain  him  ;  it  was  his  soul  that 
suffered,  and  his  soul  I  could  not  reach. 

I  did  not  accomplish  the  purpose  of  going  to 
Trinity  Church  that  morning.  Somehow,  the 
things  I  had  seen  disqualified  me  for  the  time 
from  church-going.  I  walked  homeward,  think 
ing  what  I  would  do  with  Bartleby.  Finally,  I 
resolved  upon  this — I  would  put  certain  calm 
questions  to  him  the  next  morning,  touching 
his  history,  etc.,  and  if  he  declined  to  answer 
them  openly  and  unreservedly  (and  I  supposed 
he  would  prefer  not),  then  to  give  him  a  twenty 
dollar  bill  over  and  above  whatever  I  might  owe 
him,  and  tell  him  his  services  were  no  longer 
required  ;  but  that  if  in  any  other  way  I  could 
assist  him,  I  woulfi  be  happy  to  do  so,  especial 
ly  if  he  desired  to  return  to  his  native  place, 
wherever  that  might  be,  I  would  willingly  help 
to  defray  the  expenses.  Moreover,  if,  after 


70  THE      PIAZZA      TALES. 

reaching  home,  he  found  himself  at  any  time  in 
want  of  aid,  a  letter  from  him  would  be  sure 
of  a  reply. 

The  next  morning  came. 

"Bartleby,"  said  I,  gently  calling  to  him 
behind  his  screen. 

No  reply. 

"  Bartleby,"  said  I,  in  a  still  gentler  tone, 
"  come  here ;  I  am  not  going  to  ask  you  to 
do  anything  you  would  prefer  not  to  do — I 
simply  wish  to  speak  to  you." 

Upon  this  he  noiselessly  slid  into  view. 

"Will  you  tell  me,  Bartleby,  where  you 
were  born?" 

"I  would  prefer  not  to." 

"Will  you  tell  me  anything  about  yourself?" 

"I  would  prefer  not  to." 

"But  what  reasonable  objection  can  you 
have  to  speak  to  me?  I  feel  friendly  towards 
you." 

He  did  not  look  at  me  while  I  spoke,  but 
kept  his  glance  fixed  upon  my  bust  of  Cicero, 
which,  as  I  then  sat,  was  directly  behind  me, 
some  six  inches  above  my  head. 

"What  is  your  answer,  Bartleby,"  .said  I, 


BARTLEB Y.  71 

after  waiting  a  considerable  time  for  a  reply, 
during  which  his  countenance  remained  im 
movable,  only  there  was  the  faintest  conceiva 
ble  tremor  of  the  white  attenuated  mouth. 

"  At  present  I  prefer  to  give  no  answer,"  he 
said,  and  retired  into  his  hermitage. 

It  was  rather  weak  in  me  I  confess,  but  his 
manner,  on  this  occasion,  nettled  me.  Not 
only  did  there  seem  to  lurk  in  it  a  certain  calm 
disdain,  but  his  perverseness  seemed  ungrate 
ful,  considering  the  undeniable  good  usage  and 
indulgence  he  had  received  from  me. 

Again  I  sat  ruminating  what  I  should  do. 
Mortified  as  I  was  at  his  behavior,  and  resolved 
as  I  had  been  to  dismiss  him  when  I  entered 
my  office,  nevertheless  I  strangely  felt  some 
thing  superstitious  knocking  at  my  heart,  and 
forbidding  me  to  carry  out  my  purpose,  and 
denouncing  me  for  a  villain  if  I  dared  to  breathe 
one  bitter  word  against  this  forlornest  of  man 
kind.  At  last,  familiarly  drawing  my  chair 
behind  his  screen,  I  sat  down  and  said :  "  Bar- 
tleby,  never  mind,  then,  about  revealing  your 
history ;  but  let  me  entreat  you,  as  a  friend,  to 
comply  as  far  as  may  be  with  the- usages  of 


72  THE     PIAZZA      TALES. 

this  office.  Say  now,  you  will  help  to  examine 
papers  to-morrow  or  next  day:  in  short,  say 
now,  that  in  a  day  or  two  you  will  begin  \o  be 
a  little  reasonable: — say  so,  Bartleby." 

"  At  present  I  would  prefer  not  to  be  a  little 
reasonable,"  was  his  mildly  cadaverous  reply. 

Just  then  the  folding-doors  opened,  and 
Nippers  approached.  He  seemed  suffering  from 
an  unusually  bad  night's  rest,  induced  by  se 
verer  indigestion  than  common.  He  overheard 
those  final  words  of  Bartleby. 

"  Prefer  not,  eh?"  gritted  Nippers — "  I'd  pre 
fer  him,  if  I  were  you,  sir,"  addressing  me — 
"I'd  prefer  him;  I'd  give  him  preferences,  the 
stubborn  mule !  What  is  it,  sir,  pray,  that  he 
prefers  not  to  do  now?" 

Bartleby  moved  not  a  limb. 

"Mr.  Nippers,"  said  I,  "I'd  prefer  that  you 
would  withdraw  for  the  present." 

Somehow,  of  late,  I  had  got  into  the  way  of 
involuntarily  using  this  word  "prefer"  upon  all 
sorts  of  riot  exactly  suitable  occasions.  And  I 
trembled  to  think  that  my  contact  with  the 
scrivener  had  already  and  seriously  affected  me 
in  a  mental  way.  And  what  further  and  deep- 


BARTLEBY.  73 

er  aberration  might  it  not  yet  produce  ?  This 
apprehension  had  not  been  without  efficacy  in 
determining  me  to  summary  measures. 

As  Nippers,  looking  very  sour  and  sulky,  was 
departing,  Turkey  blandly  and  deferentially  ap 
proached. 

"  With  submission,  sir,"  said  he,  "  yesterday 
I  was  thinking  about  Bartleby  here,  and  I  think 
that  if  he  would  but  prefer  to  take  a  quart  of 
good  ale  every  day,  it  would  do  much  towards 
mending  him,  and  enabling  him  to  assist  in  ex 
amining  his  papers." 

"  So  you  have  got  the  word,  too,"  said  I, 
slightly  excited. 

"  With  submission,  what  word,  sir,"  asked 
Turkey,  respectfully  crowding  himself  into  the 
contracted  space  behind  the  screen,  and 'by  so 
doing,  making  me  jostle  the  scrivener.  "  What 
word,  sir?" 

"  I  would  prefer  to  be  left  alone  here,"  said 
Bartleby,  as  if  offended  at  being  mobbed  in  his 
privacy. 

"  That's  the  word,. Turkey,"  said  I — "that1- 
it." 

"Oh,  prefer ?  oh  yes — queer  word.     I  never 
4 


74  THE      PIAZZA     TALES. 

use  it  myself.  But,  sir,  as  I  was  saying,  if  lie 
would  but  prefer — " 

"  Turkey,"  interrupted  I,  "  you  will  please 
withdraw." 

"  Oh  certainly,  sir,  if  you  prefer  that  I 
should." 

As  he  opened  the  folding-door  to  retire,  Nip 
pers  at  his  desk  caught  a  glimpse  of  me,  and 
asked  whether  I  would  prefer  to  have  a  certain 
paper  copied  on  blue  paper  or  white.  He  did 
not  in  the  least  roguishly  accent  the  word  pre 
fer.  It  was  plain  that  it  involuntarily  rolled 
from  his  tongue.  I  thought  to  myself,  surely  I 
must  get  rid  of  a  demented  man,  who  already 
has  in  some  degree  turned  the  tongues,  if  not 
the  heads  of  myself  and  clerks.  But  I  thought 
it  prudent  not  to  break  the  dismission  at  once. 

The  next  day  I  noticed  that  Bartleby  did 
nothing  but  stand  at  his  window  in  his  dead- 
wall  revery.  Upon  asking  him  why  he  did  not 
write,  he  said  that  he  had  decided  upon  doing 
no  more  writing. 

"  Why,  how  now  ?  what  next  ?"  exclaimed  I, 
"  do  no  more  writing  ?" 

"  No  more." 


BARTLEBY.  75 

"  And  what  is  the  reason  ?" 

"  Do  you  not  see  the  reason  for  yourself,"  he 
indifferently  replied. 

I  looked  steadfastly  at  him,  and  perceived 
that  his  eyes  looked  dull  and  glazed.  Instantly 
it  occurred  to  me,  that  his  unexampled  dili 
gence  in  copying  by  his  dim  window  for  the 
first  few  weeks  of  his  stay  with  me  might  have 
temporarily  impared  his  vision. 

I  was  touched.  I  said  something  in  condo 
lence  with  him.  I  hinted  that  of  course  he  did 
wisely  in  abstaining  from  writing  for  a  while ; 
and  urged  him  to  embrace  that  opportunity  of 
taking  wholesome  exercise  in  the  open  air. 
This,  however,  he  did  not  do.  A  few  days  after- 
this,  my  other  clerks  being  absent,  and  being  in 
a  great  hurry  to  dispatch  certain  letters  by  the 
mail,  I  thought  that,  having  nothing  else  earth 
ly  to  do,  Bartleby  would  surely  be  less  inflexible 
than  usual,  and  carry  these  letters  to  the  post- 
office.  But  he  blankly  declined.  So,  much  to 
my  inconvenience,  I  went  myself. 

Still  added  days  went  by.  Whether  Bartle- 
by's  eyes  improved  or  not,  I  could  not  say.  To 
all  appearance.  I  thought  they  did.  But  when  I 


76  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

asked  him  if  they  did,  he  vouchsafed  no  answer. 
At  all  events,  he  would  do  no  copying.  At 
last,  in  reply  to  my  urgings,  he  informed  me 
that  he  had  permanently  given  up  copying. 

"  What !"  exclaimed  I  ;  "  suppose  your  eyes 
should  get  entirely  well — better  than  ever  be 
fore — would  you  not  copy  then  ?" 

"  I  have  given  up  copying,"  he  answered,  and 
slid  aside. 

He  remained  as  ever,  a  fixture  in  my  cham 
ber.  Nay — if  that  were  possible — he  became 
still  more  of  a  fixture  than  before.  What  was 
to  be  done  ?  He  would  do  nothing  in  the  office  ; 
why  should  he  stay  there  ?  In  plain  fact,  he  had 
now  become  a  millstone  to  me,  not  only  useless 
as  a  necklace,  but  afflictive  to  bear.  Yet  I  was 
sorry  for  him.  I  speak  less  than  truth  when  I 
say  that,  on  his  own  account,  he  occasioned  me 
uneasiness.  If  he  would  but  have  named  a 
single  relative  or  friend,  I  would  instantly  have 
written,  and  urged  their  taking  the  poor  fellow 
away  to  some  convenient  retreat.  But  he  seem 
ed  alone,  absolutely  alone  in  the  universe.  A 
bit  of  wreck  in  the  mid  Atlantic.  At  length, 
necessities  connected  with  my  business  tyran- 


BARTLEBY.  77 

nized  over  all  other  considerations.  Decently  as 
I  could,  I  told  Bartleby  that  in  six  days  time  he 
must  unconditionally  leave  the  office.  I  warn 
ed  him  to  take  measures,  in  the  interval,  for  pro 
curing  some  other  abode.  I  offered  to  assist 
him  in  this  endeavor,  if  he  himself  would  but 
take  the  first  step  towards  a  removal.  "And 
when  you  finally  quit  me,  Bartleby,"  added  I, 
"  I  shall  see  that  you  go  not  away  entirely  un 
provided.  Six  days  from  this  hour,  remember." 

At  the  expiration  of  that  period,  I  peeped 
behind  the  screen,  and  lo  !  Bartleby  was  there. 

I  buttoned  up  my  coat,  balanced  myself;  ad 
vanced  slowly  towards  him,  touched  his  shoul 
der,  and  said,  "  The  time  has  come  ;  you  must 
quit  this  place  ;  I  am  sorry  for  you ;  here  is 
money  ;  but  you  must  go." 

"I  would  prefer  not,"  he  replied,  with  his 
back  still  towards  me, 

"  You  must." 

He  remained  silent. 

Now  I  had  an  unbounded  confidence  in  this 
man's  common  honesty.  He  had  frequently  re 
stored  to  me  sixpences  and  shillings  carelessly 
dropped  upon  the  floor,  for  I  am  apt  to  be  very 


78  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

reckless  in  such  shirt-button  affairs.  The  pro 
ceeding,  then,  which  followed  will  not  be  deem 
ed  extraordinary. 

"  Bartleby,"  said  I,  "  I  owe  you  twelve  dol 
lars  on  account ;  here  are  thirty-two ;  the  odd 
twenty  are  yours — Will  you  take  it?"  and  I 
handed  the  bills  towards  him. 

But  he  made  no  motion. 

"  I  will  leave  them  here,  then,"  putting  them 
under  a  weight  on  the  table.  Then  taking  my  hat 
and  cane  and  going  to  the  door,  I  tranquilly 
turned  and  added — "After  you  have  removed 
your  things  from  these  offices,  Bartleby,  you 
will  of  course  lock  the  door — since  every  one  is 
now  gone  for  the  day  but  you — and  if  you 
please,  slip  your  key  underneath  the  mat,  so 
that  I  may  have  it  in  the  morning.  I  shall  not 
see  you  again  ;  so  good-by  to  you.  If,  here 
after,  in  your  new  place  of  abode,  I  can  be  of 
any  service  to  you,  do  not  fail  to  advise  me  by 
letter.  Good-by,  Bartleby,  and  fare  you  well." 

But  he  answered  not  a  word ;  like  the  last 
column  of  some  ruined  temple,  he  remained 
standing  mute  and  solitary  in  the  middle  of  the 
otherwise  deserted  room. 


BARTLEBY.  79 

As  I  walked  home .  in  a  pensive  mood,  my 
vanity  got  the  better  of  my  pity.  I  could  not, 
but  highly  plume  myself  on  my  masterly  man 
agement  in  getting  rid  of  Bartlehy.  Masterly  I 
call  it,  and  such  it  must  appear  to  any  dispas 
sionate  thinker.  The  beauty  of  my  procedure 
seemed  to  consist  in  its  perfect  quietness.  There 
was  no  vulgar  bullying,  no  bravado  of  any  sort, 
no  choleric  hectoring,  and  striding  to  and  fro 
across  the  apartment,  jerking  out  vehement 
commands  for  Bartleby  to  bundle  himself  off 
with  his  beggarly  traps.  Nothing  of  the  kind. 
Without  loudly  bidding  Bartleby  depart — as  an 
inferior  genius  might  have  done — I  assumed  the 
ground  that  depart  he  must ;  and  upon  that  as 
sumption  built  all  I  had  to  say.  The  more  I 
thought  over  my  procedure,  the  more  I  was 
charmed  with  it.  Nevertheless,  next  morning, 
upon  awakening,  I  had  my  doubts — I  had  some 
how  slept  off  the  fumes  of  vanity.  One  of  the 
coolest  and  wisest  hours  a  man  has,  is  just  after 
he  awakes  in  the  morning.  My  procedure  seem 
ed  as  sagacious  as  ever — but  only  in  theory. 
How  it  would  prove  in  practice — there  was  the 
rub.  It  was  truly  a  beautiful  thought  to  have 


80  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

•» 

assumed  Bartleby's  departure ;  but,  after  all, 
that  assumption  was  simply  my  own,  and  none 
of  Bartleby's.  The  great  point  was,  not  wheth 
er  I  had  assumed  that  he  would  quit  me,  but 
whether  he  would  prefer  so  to  do.  He  was 
more  a  man  of  preferences  than  assumptions. 

After  breakfast,  I  walked  down  town,  arguing 
the  probabilities  pro  and  con.  One  moment  I 
thought  it  would  prove  a  miserable  failure,  and 
Bartleby  would  be  found  all  alive  at  my  office 
as  usual ;  the  next  moment  it  seemed  certain 
that  I  should  find  his  chair  empty.  And  so  I 
kept  veering  about.  At  the  corner  of  Broad 
way  and  Canal  street,  I  saw  quite  an  excited 
group  of  people  standing  in  earnest  conversa 
tion. 

"  I'll  take  odds  he  doesn't,"  said  a  voice  as  I 
passed. 

"  Doesn't  go  ? — done  !"  said  I,  "  put  up  your 
money." 

I  was  instinctively  putting  my  hand  in  my 
pocket  to  produce  my  own,  when  I  remember 
ed  that  this  was  an  election  day.  The  words  I 
had  overheard  bore  no  reference  to  Bartleby, 
but  to  the  success  or  non-success  of  some  candi- 


BARTLEBY.  81 

date  for  the  mayoralty.  In  my  intent  frame  of 
mind,  I  had,  as  it  were,  imagined  that  all  Broad 
way  shared  in  my  excitement,  and  were  debating 
the  same  question  with  me.  I  passed  on,  very 
thankful  that  the  uproar  of  the  street  screened 
my  momentary  absent-mindedness. 

As  I  had  intended,  I  was  earlier  than  usual 
at  my  office  door.  I  stood "  listening  for  a 
moment.  All  was  still.  He  must  be  gone.  I 
tried  the  knob.  The  door  was  locked.  Yes, 
my  procedure  had  worked  to  a  charm ;  he  in 
deed  must  be  vanished.  Yet  a  certain  melan 
choly  mixed  with  this  :  I  was  almost  sorry  for 
my  brilliant  success.  I  was  fumbling  under  the 
door  mat  for  the  key,  which  Bartleby  was  to 
have  left  there  for  me,  when  accidentally  my 
knee  knocked  against  a  panel,  producing  a 
summoning  sound,  and  in  response  a  voice  came 
to  me  from  within — "  Not  yet ;  I  am  occu 
pied." 

It  was  Bartleby. 

I  was  thunderstruck.  For  an  instant  I  stood 
like  the  man  who,  pipe  in  mouth,  was  killed 
one  cloudless  afternoon  long  ago  in  Virginia, 

by  summer  lightning  ;  at  his  own  warm  open 

4* 


82  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

window  he  was  killed,  and  remained  leaning  out 
there  upon  the  dreamy  afternoon,  till  some  one 
touched  him,  when  he  fell. 

"  Not  gone  !"  I  murmured  at  last.  But 
again  obeying  that  wondrous  ascendancy  which 
the  inscrutable  scrivener  had  over  me,  and  from 
which  ascendancy,  for  all  my  chafing,  I  could 
not  completely  escape,  I  slowly  went  down 
stairs  and  out  into  the  street,  and  while  walking 
round  the  block,  considered  what  I  should  next 
do  in  this  unheard-of  perplexity.  Turn  the 
man  out  by  an  actual  thrusting  I  could  not ;  to 
drive  him  away  by  calling  him  hard  names 
would  not  do  ;  calling  in  the  police  was  an  un 
pleasant  idea  ;  and  yet,  permit  him  to  enjoy  his 
cadaverous  triumph  over  me — this,  too,  I  could 
not  think  of.  What  was  to  be  done  ?  or,  if 
nothing  could  be  done,  was  there  anything  fur 
ther  that  I  could  assume  in  the  matter  ?  Yes,  as 
before  I  had  prospectively  assumed  that  Bartle- 
by  would  depart,  so  now  I  might  retrospectively 
assume  that  departed  he  was.  In  the  legiti 
mate  carrying  out  of  this  assumption,  I  might 
enter  my  office  in  a  great  hurry,  and  pretending 
not  to  see  Bartleby  at  all,  walk  straight  against 


B  A  E  T  L  E  B  Y  .  83 

him  as  if  he  were  air.  Such  a  proceeding 
would  in  a  singular  degree  have  the  appearance 
of  a  home-thrust.  It  was  hardly  possible  that 
Bartleby  could  withstand  such  an  application  of 
the  doctrine  of  assumptions.  But  upon  second 
thoughts  the  success  of  the  plan  seemed  rather 
dubious.  I  resolved  to  argue  the  matter  over 
with  him  again. 

"  Bartleby,"  said  I,  entering  the  office,  with 
a  quietly  severe  expression,  '•  I  am  seriously  dis 
pleased.  I  am  pained,  Bartleby.  I  had  thought 
better  of  you.  I  had  imagined  you  of  such  a 
gentlemanly  organization,  that  in  any  delicate 
dilemma  a  slight  hint  would  suffice — in  short,  an 
assumption.  But  it  appears  I  am  deceived. 
Why,"  I  added,  unaffectedly  starting,  "you 
have  not  even  touched  that  money  yet,"  point 
ing  to  it,  just  where  I  had  left  it  the  evening 
previous. 

He  answered  nothing. 

"  Will  you,  or  will  you  not,  quit  me  ?"  I  now 
demanded  in  a  sudden  passion,  advancing  close 
to  him. 

"  I  would  prefer  not  to  quit  you,"  he  replied 
gently  emphasizing  the  not. 


84  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

"  What  earthly  right  have  you  to  stay  here  ? 
Do  you  pay  any  rent  ?  Do  you  pay  my  taxes  ? 
Or  is  this  property  yours  ?" 

He  answered  nothing. 

"  Are  you  ready  to  go  on  and  write  now  ? 
Are  your  eyes  recovered  ?  Could  you  copy  a 
small  paper  for  me  this  morning?  or  help  ex 
amine  a  few  lines.?  or  step  round  to  the  post- 
office  ?  In  a  word,  will  you  do  anything  at  all, 
to  give  a  coloring  to  your  refusal  to  depart  the 
premises  ? 

He  silently  retired  into  his  hermitage. 

I  was  now  in  such  a  state  of  nervous  resent 
ment  that  I  thought  it  but  prudent  to  check 
myself  at  present  from  further  demonstrations. 
Bartleby  and  I  were  alone.  I  remembered  the 
tragedy  of  the  unfortunate  Adams  and  the  still 
more  unfortunate  Colt  in  the  solitary  office  of 
the  latter  ;  and  how  poor  Colt,  being  dreadfully 
incensed  by  Adams,  and  imprudently  permit 
ting  himself  to  get  wildly  excited,  was  at  un 
awares  hurried  into  his  fatal  act — an  act  which 
certainly  no  man  could  possibly  deplore  more 
than  the  actor  himself.  Often  it  had  occurred 
to  me  in  my  pqnderings  upon  the  subject,  that 


BARTLEBY.  85 

had  that  altercation  taken  place  in  the  public 
street,  or  at  a  private  residence,  it  would  not 
have  terminated  as  it  did.  It  was  the  circum 
stance  of  being  alone  in  a  solitary  office,  up 
stairs,  of  a  building  entirely  unhallowed  by 
humanizing  domestic  associations — an  uncar- 
peted  office,  doubtless,  of  a  dusty,  haggard  sort 
of  appearance — this  it  must  have  been,  which 
greatly  helped  to  enhance  the  irritable  despera 
tion  of  the  hapless  Colt. 

But  wrhen  this  old  Adam  of  resentment  rose 
in  me  and  tempted  me  concerning  Bartleby,  I 
grappled  him  and  threw  him.  How  ?  Why, 
simply  by  recalling  the  divine  injunction  :  "  A 
new  commandment  give  I  unto  you,  that  ye 
love  one  another."  Yes,  this  it  was  that  saved 
me.  Aside  from  higher  considerations,  charity 
often  operates  as  a  vastly  wise  and  prudent 
principle — a  great  safeguard  to  its  possessor. 
Men  have  committed  murder  for  jealousy's  sake, 
and  anger's  sake,  and  hatred's  sake,  and  selfish 
ness'  sake,  and  spiritual  pride's  sake  ;  but  no 
man,  that  ever  I  heard  of,  ever  committed  a  dia 
bolical  murder  for  sweet  charity's  sake.  Mere 
self-interest,  then,  if  no  better  motive  can  be 


86  THE      PIAZZA      TALES. 

enlisted,  should,  especially  with  high-tempered 
men,  prompt  all  beings  to  charity  and  phi 
lanthropy.  At  any  rate,  upon  the  occasion  in 
qestion,  I  strove  to  drown  my  exasperated  feel 
ings  towards,  the  scrivener  by  benevolently 
construing  his  conduct.  Poor  fellow,  poor  fel 
low  !  thought  I,  he  don't  mean  anything  ;  and 
besides,  he  has  seen  hard  times,  and  ought  to  be 
indulged. 

I  endeavored,  also,  immediately  to  occupy 
myself,  and  at  the  same  time  to  comfort  my 
despondency.  I  tried  to  fancy,  that  in  the 
course  of  the  morning,  at  such  time  as  might 
prove  agreeable  to  him,  Bartleby,  of  his  own 
free  accord,  would  emerge  from  his  hermitage 
and  take  up  some  decided  line  of  inarch  in  the 
direction  of  the  door.  But  no.  Half-past 
twelve  o'clock  came  ;  Turkey  began  to  glow  in 
the  face,  overturn  his  inkstand,  and  become 
generally  obstreperous  ;  Nippers  abated  down 
into  quietude  and  courtesy  ;  Ginger  Nut  munch 
ed  his  noon  apple ;  and  Bartleby  remained 
standing  at  his  window  in  one  of  his  profound- 
est  dead-wall  reveries.  Will  it  be  credited  ? 
Ought  I  to  acknowledge  it?  That  afternoon  I 


BARTLEBY.  87 

left  the  office  without  saying  one  further  word 
to  him. 

Some  days  now  passed,  during  which,  at  lei 
sure  intervals  I  looked  a  little  into  "  Edwards 
on  the  Will,"  and  "Priestley  on  Necessity." 
Under  the  circumstances,  those  books  induced 
a  salutary  feeling.  Gradually  I  slid  into  the 
persuasion  that  these  troubles  of  mine,  touching 
the  scrivener,  had  been  all  predestinated  from 
eternity,  and  Bartleby  was  billeted  upon  me  for 
some  mysterious  purpose  of  an  allwise  Provi 
dence,  which  it  was  not  for  a  mere  mortal  like 
me  to  fathom.  Yes,  Bartleby,  stay  there  be 
hind  your  screen,  thought  I ;  I  shall  persecute 
you  no  more  ;  you  are  harmless  and  noiseless 
as  any  of  these  old  chairs;  in  short,  I  never  feel 
so  private  as  when  I  know  you  are  here.  At 
last  I  see  it,  I  feel  it ;  I  penetrate  to  the  pre 
destinated  purpose  of  my  life.  I  am  content. 
Others  may  have  loftier  parts  to  enact ;  but  my 
mission  in  this  world,  Bartleby,  is  to  furnish  you 
with  office-room  for  such  period  as  you  may 
see  fit  to  remain. 

I  believe  that  this  wise  and  blessed  frame  of 
mind  would  have  continued  with  me,  had  it  not 


88  THE     PIAZZA      TALES. 

been  for  the  unsolicited  and  uncharitable  re 
marks  obtruded  upon  me  by  my  professional 
friends  who  visited  the  rooms.  But  thus  it 
often  is,  that  the  constant  friction  of  illiberal 
minds  wears  out  at  last  the  best  resolves  of  the 
more  generous.  Though  to  be  sure,  when  I 
reflected  upon  it,  it  was  not  strange  that  people 
entering  my  office  should  be  struck  by  the 
peculiar  aspect  of  the  unaccountable  Bartleby, 
and  so  be  tempted  to  throw  out  some  sinister 
observations  concerning  him.  Sometimes  an 
attorney,  having  business  with  me,  and  calling 
at  my  office,  and  finding  no  one  but  the  scrivener 
there,  would  undertake  to  obtain  some  sort  of 
precise  information  from  him  touching  my 
whereabouts  ;  but  without  heeding  his  idle  talk, 
Bartleby  would  remain  standing  immovable  in 
the  middle  of  the  room.  So  after  contemplat 
ing  him  in  that  position  for  a  time,  the  attorney 
would  depart,  no  wiser  than  he  came. 

Also,  when  a  reference  was  going  on,  and 
the  room  full  of  lawyers  and  witnesses,  and  busi 
ness  driving  fast,  some  deeply-occupied  legal 
gentleman  present,  seeing  Bartleby  wholly 
unemployed,  would  request  him  to  run  round 


BARTLEBY.  89 

to  his  (the  legal  gentleman's)  office  and  fetch 
some  papers  for  him.  Thereupon,  Bartleby 
would  tranquilly  decline,  and  yet  remain  idle 
as  before.  Then  the  lawyer  would  give  a 
great  stare,  and  turn  to  me.  And  what 
could  I  say  ?  At  last  I  wras  made  aware 
that  all  through  the  circle  of  my  professional 
acquaintance,  a  whisper  of  wonder  was  running 
round,  having  reference  to  the  strange  creature 
I  kept  at  my  office.  This  worried  me  very 
much.  And  as  the  idea  came  upon  me  of  his 
possibly  turning  out  a  long-lived  man,  and  keep 
occupying  my  chambers,  and  denying  my  au 
thority  ;  and  perplexing  my  visitors  ;  and 
scandalizing  my  professional  reputation  ;  and 
casting  a  general  gloom  over  the  premises ;  keep 
ing  soul  and  body  together  to  the  last  upon  his 
savings  (for  doubtless  he  spent  but  half  a  dime 
a  day),  and  in  the  end  perhaps  outlive  me,  and 
claim  possession  of  my  office  by  right  of  his 
perpetual  occupancy :  as  all  these  dark  anticipa 
tions  crowded  upon  me  more  and  more,  and 
my  friends  continually  intruded  their  relentless 
remarks  upon  the  apparition  in  my  room  ; 
a  great  change  was  wrought  in  me.  I  re- 


90  THE      PIAZZA.      TALES. 

solved  to  gather  all  my  faculties  together,  and 
forever  rid  me  of  this  intolerable  incubus. 

Ere  revolving  any  complicated  project,  how 
ever,  adapted  to  this  end,  I  first  simply  sug 
gested  to  Bartleby  the  propriety  of  his  perma 
nent  departure.  In  a  calm  and  serious  tone,  I 
commended  the  idea  to  his  careful  and  mature 
consideration.  But,  having  taken  three  days 
to  meditate  upon  it,  he  apprised  me,  that  his 
original  determination  remained  the  same;  in 
short,  that  he  still  preferred  to  abide  with  me. 

What  shall  I  do?  I  now  said  to  myself, 
buttoning  up  my  coat  to  the  last  button.  What 
shall  I  do?  what  ought  I  to  do?  what  does 
conscience  say  I  should  do  with  this  man,  or, 
rather,  ghost.  Rid  myself  of  him,  I  must ;  go, 
he  shall.  But  how?  You  will  not 'thrust  him, 
the  poor,  pale,  passive  mortal — you  will  not 
thrust  such  a  helpless  creature  out  of  your 
door?  you  will  not  dishonor  yourself  by  such 
cruelty  ?  No,  I  will  not,  I  cannot  do  that. 
Rather  would  I  let  him  live  and  die  here,  and 
then  mason  up  his  remains  in  the  wall.  What, 
then,  will  you  do  ?  For  all  your  coaxing,  he 
will  not  budge.  Bribes  he  leaves  under  your 


BAKTLEBY.  91 

own  paper-weight  on  your  table ;  in  short,  it 
is  quite  plain  that  he  prefers  to  cling  to  you. 

Then  something  severe,  something  unusual 
must  be  done.  What !  surely  you  will  not 
have  him  collared  by  a  constable,  and  commit 
his  innocent  pallor  to  the  common  jail?  And 
upon  what  ground  could  you  procure  such  a 
thing  to  be  done? — a  vagrant,  is  he?  What! 
he  a  vagrant,  a  wanderer,  who  refuses  to 
budge?  It  is  because  he  will  not  be  a  vagrant, 
then,  that  you  seek  to  count  him  as  a  vagrant. 
That  is  too  absurd.  No  visible  means  of  sup 
port  :  there  I  have  him.  Wrong  again :  for 
indubitably  he  does  support  himself,  and  that  is 
the  only  unanswerable  proof  that  any  man  can 
show  of  his  possessing  the  means  so  to  do. 
No  more,  then.  Since  he  will  not  quit  me,  I 
must  quit  him.  I  will  change  my  offices ;  I 
will  move  elsewhere,  and  give  him  fair  notice, 
that  if  I  find  him  on  my  new  premises  I  will 
then  proceed  against  him  as  a  common  tres 
passer. 

Acting  accordingly,  next  day  I  thus  address 
ed  him:  "I  find  these  chambers  too  far  from 
the  City  Hall ;  the  air  is  unwholesome.  In  a 


92  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

word,  I  propose  to  remove  my  offices  next 
week,  and  shall  no  longer  require  your  ser 
vices.  I  tell  you  this  now,  in  order  that  you 
may  seek  another  place." 

He  made  no  reply,  and  nothing  more  was 
said. 

On  the  appointed  day  I  engaged  carts  and 
men,  proceeded  to  my  chambers,  arid,  having 
but  little  furniture,  everything  was  removed  in 
a  few  hours.  Throughout,  the  scrivener  re 
mained  standing  behind  the  screen,  which  I 
directed  to  be  removed  the  last  thing.  It  was 
withdrawn ;  and,  being  folded  up  like  a  huge 
folio,  left  him  the  motionless  occupant  of  a 
naked  room.  I  stood  in  the  entry  watching 
him  a  moment,  while  something  from  within 
me  upbraided  me. 

I  re-entered,  with  my  hand  in  my  pocket — 
and — and  my  heart  in  my  mouth. 

"  Good-by,  Bartleby;  I  am  going — good- 
by,  and  God  some  way  bless  you;  and  take 
that,"  slipping  something  in  his  hand.  But  it 
dropped  upon  the  floor,  and  then — strange  to 
say — I  tore  myself  from  him  whom  I  had  so 
longed  to  be  rid  of. 


BARTLEBY.  93 

Established  in  my  new  quarters,  for  a  day 
or  two  I  kept  the  door  locked,  and  started  at 
every  footfall  in  the  passages.  When  I  re 
turned  to  my  rooms,  after  any  little  absence,  I 
would  pause  at  the  threshold  for  an  instant, 
and  attentively  listen,  ere  applying  my  key. 
But  these  fears  were  needless.  Bartleby  never 
came  nigh  me. 

I  thought  all  was  going  well,  when  a  per- 
turbed-looking  stranger  visited  me,  inquiring 
whether  I  was  the  person  who  had  recently 
occupied  rooms  at  No.  —  Wall  street. 

Full  of  forebodings,  I  replied  that  I  was. 

"  Then,  sir,"  said  the  stranger,  who  proved 
a  lawyer,  "  you  are  responsible  for  the  man 
you  left  there.  He  refuses  to  do  any  copying ; 
he  refuses  to  do  anything;  he  says  he  prefers 
not  to  ;  and  he  refuses  to  quit  the  premises." 

"I  am  very  sorry,  sir,"  said  I,  with  assumed 
tranquillity,  but  an  inward  tremor,  "  but,  real 
ly,  the  man  you  allude  to  is  nothing  to  me — 
he  is  no  relation  or  apprentice  of  mine,  that 
you  should  hold  me  responsible  for  him." 

"In mercy's  name,  who  is  he?" 

"I   certainly  cannot  inform   you.     I  know 


94  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

nothing  about  him.  Formerly  I  employed  him 
as  a  copyist ;  but  he  has  done  nothing  for  me 
now  for  some  time  past." 

"I  shall  settle  him,  then — good  morning, 
sir." 

Several  days  passed,  and  I  heard  nothing 
more ;  and,  though  I  often  felt  a  charitable 
prompting  to  call  at  the  place  and  see  poor 
Bartleby,  yet  a  certain  squeamishness,  of  I 
know  not  what,  withheld  me. 

All  is  over  with  him,  by  this  time,  thought 
I,  at  last,  when,  through  another  week,  no 
further  intelligence  reached  me.  But,  coming 
to  my  room  the  day  after,  I  found  several  per 
sons  waiting  at  my  door  in  a  high  state  of 
nervous  excitement. 

"That's  the  man — here  he  comes,"  cried  the 
foremost  one,  whom  I  recognized  as  the  lawyer 
who  had  previously  called  upon  me  alone. 

"  You  must  take  him  away,  sir,  at  once," 
cried  a  portly  person  among  them,  advancing 
upon  me,  and  whom  I  knew  to  be  the  land 
lord  of  No.  —  Wall  street.  "  These  gentle 
men,  my  tenants,  cannot  stand  it  any  longer; 
Mr.  B ,"  pointing  to  the  lawyer,  "has 


BARTLEBY.  95 

turned  him  out  of  his  room,  and  he  now  per 
sists  in  haunting  the  building  generally,  sitting 
upon  the  banisters  of  the  stairs  by  day,  and 
sleeping  in  the  entry  by  night.  Everybody  is 
concerned ;  clients  are  leaving  the  offices  ;  some 
fears  are  entertained  of  a  mob  ;  something  you 
must  do,  and  that  without  delay." 

Aghast  at  this  torrent,  I  felj  back  before  it, 
and  would  fain  have  locked  myself  in  my  new 
quarters.  In  vain  I  persisted  that  Bartleby 
was  nothing  to  me — no  more  than  to  any  one 
else.  In  vain — I  wras  the  last  person  known 
to  have  anything  to  do  with  him,  and  they 
held  me  to  the  terrible  account.  Fearful,  then, 
of  being  exposed  in  the  papers  (as  one  person 
present  obscurely  threatened),  I  considered  the 
matter,  and,  at  length,  said,  that  if  the  lawyer 
would  give  me  a  confidential  interview  with 
the  scrivener,  in  his  (the  lawyer's)  own  room, 
I  would,  that  afternoon,  strive  my  best  to  rid 
them  of  the  nuisance  they  complained  of. 

Going  up  stairs  to  my  old  haunt,  there  was 
Bartleby  silently  sitting  upon  the  banister  at 
the  landing. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here,  Bartleby?"  said  I. 


96  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

"Sitting  upon  the  banister,"  he  mildly  re 
plied. 

I  motioned  him  into  the  lawyer's  room,  who 
then  left  us. 

"  Bartleby"  said  I,  "  are  you  aware  that  you 
are  the  cause  of  great  tribulation  to  me,  by 
persisting  in  occupying  the  entry  after  being 
dismissed  from  the  office?" 

No  answer. 

"Now  one  of  two  things  must  take  place. 
Either  you  must  do  something,  or  something 
must  be  done  to  you.  Now  what  sort  of  busi 
ness  would  you  like  to  engage  in?  Would 
you  like  to  re-engage  in  copying  for  some 
one?" 

"No;  I  would  prefer  not  to  make  any 
change." 

"  Would  you  like  a  clerkship  in  a  dry-goods 
store?" 

"There  is  too  much  confinement  about  that. 
No,  I  would  not  like  a  clerkship ;  but  I  am  not 
particular." 

"Too  much  confinement,"  I  cried,  "why 
you  keep  yourself  confined  all  the  time!" 

"I  would  prefer  not  to  take  a  clerkship," 


BARTLEBY.  97 

lie  rejoined,  as  if  to  settle  that  little  item,  at 
once. 

"How  would  a  bar-tender's  business  suit 
you?  There  is  no  trying  of  the  eye-sight  in 
that." 

"I  would  not  like  it  at  all;  though,  as  I  said 
before,  I  am  not  particular." 

His  unwonted  wordiness  inspirited  me.  I 
returned  to  the  charge. 

"Well,  then,  would  you  like  to  travel 
through  the  country  collecting  bills  for  the 
merchants  ?  That  would  improve  your  health." 

"No,  I  would  prefer  to  be  doing  something 
else." 

"How.  then,  would  going  as  a  companion  to 
Europe,  to  entertain  some  young  gentleman 
with  your  conversation — how  would  that  suit 
you?" 

"Not  at  all.  It  does  not  strike  me  that 
there  is  anything  definite  about  that.  I  like 
to  be  stationary.  But  I  am  not  particular." 

"  Stationary  you  shall  be,  then,"  I  cried,  now 
losing  all  patience,  and,  for  the  first  time  in 
all  my  exasperating  connection  with  him,  fairly 
flying  into  a  passion.  "If  you  do  not  go  away 


98  THE     PIAZZA      TALES. 

from  these  premises  before  night,  I  shall  feel 
bound — indeed,  I  am  bound — to — to — to  quit 
the  premises  myself!"  I  rather  absurdly  con 
cluded,  ^knowing  not  with  what  possible  threat 
to  try  to  frighten  his  immobility  into  com 
pliance.  Despairing  of  all  further  efforts,  I 
was  precipitately  leaving  him,  when  a  final 
thought  occurred  to  me — one  which  had  not 
been  wholly  unindulged  before. 

"Bartleby,"  said  I,  in  the  kindest  tone  I 
could  assume  under  such  exciting  circum 
stances,  "  will  you  go  home  with  me  now — 
not  to  my  office,  but  my  dwelling — and  remain 
there  till  we  can  conclude  upon  some  conve 
nient  arrangement  for  you  at  our  leisure? 
Come,  let  us  start  now,  right  away." 

"  No  :  at  present  I  would  prefer  not  to  make 
any  change  at  all." 

I  answered  nothing  ;  but,  effectually  dodging 
every  one  by  the  suddenness  and  rapidity  of 
my  flight,  rushed  from  the  building,  ran  up 
Wall  street  towards  Broadway,  and,  jumping 
into  the  first  omnibus,  was  soon  removed  from 
pursuit.  As  soon  as  tranquillity  returned,  I 
distinctly  perceived  that  I  had  now  done  all 


BARTLEBY.  99 

that  I  possibly  could,  both  in  respect  to  the 
demands  of  the  landlord  and  his  tenants,  and 
with  regard  to  my  own  desire  and  sense  of 
duty,  to  benefit  Bartleby,  and  shield  him  from 
rude  persecution,  I  now  strove  to  be  entirely 
care-free  and  quiescent ;  and  my  conscience 
justified  me  in  the  attempt ;  though,  indeed,  it 
was  not  so  successful  as  I  could  have  wished. 
So  fearful  was  I  of  being  again  hunted  out 
by  the  incensed  landlord  and  his  exasperated 
tenants,  that,  surrendering  my  business  to  Nip 
pers,  for  a  few  days,  I  drove  about  the  upper 
part  of  the  town  and  through  the  suburbs,  in 
my  rockaway ;  crossed  over  to  Jersey  City  and 
Hoboken,  and  paid  fugitive  visits  to  Manhat- 
tanville  and  Astoria.  In  fact,  I  almost  lived  in 
my  rockaway  for  the  time. 

When  again  I  entered  my  office,  lo,  a  note 
from  the  landlord  lay  upon  the  desk.  I  opened 
it  with  trembling  hands.  It  informed  me  that 
the  writer  had  sent  to  the  police,  and  had 
Bartleby  removed  to  the  Tombs  as  a  vagrant. 
Moreover,  since  I  knew  more  about  him  than 
any  one  else,  he  wished  me  to  appear  at  that 
place,  and  make  a  suitable  statement  of  the 


100  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

facts.  These  tidings  had  a  conflicting  effect 
upon  me.  At  first  I  was  indignant ;  but,  at 
last,  almost  approved.  The  landlord's  ener 
getic,  summary  disposition,  had  led  him  to 
adopt  a  procedure  which  I  do  not  think  I 
would  have  decided  upon  myself;  and  yet,  as 
a  last  resort,  under  such  peculiar  circumstances, 
it  seemed  the  only  plan. 

As  I  afterwards  learned,  the  poor  scrivener, 
when  told  that  he  must  be  conducted  to  the 
Tombs,  offered  not  the  slightest  obstacle,  but, 
in  his  pale,  unmoving  way,  silently  acquiesced. 

Some  of  the  compassionate  and  curious  by 
standers  joined  the  party;  and  headed  by  one 
of  the  constables  arm  in  arm  with  Bartleby, 
the  silent  procession  filed  its  way  through  all 
the  noise,  and  heat,  and  joy  of  the  roaring 
thoroughfares  at  noon. 

The  same  day  I  received  the  note,  I  went 
to  the  Tombs,  or,  to  speak  more  properly,  the 
Halls  of  Justice.  Seeking  the  right  officer,  I 
stated  the  purpose  of  my  call,  and  was  in 
formed  that  the  individual  I  described  was, 
indeed,  within.  I  then  assured  the  functionary 
that  Bartleby  was  a  perfectly  honest  man,  and 


BARTLEBY.  101 

greatly  to  be  compassionated,  however  unac 
countably  eccentric.  I  narrated  all  I  knew, 
and  closed  by  suggesting  the  idea  of  letting 
him  remain  in  as  indulgent  confinement  as 
possible,  till'  something  less  harsh  might  be 
done — though,  indeed,  I  hardly  knew  what. 
At  all  events,  if  nothing  else  could  be  decided 
upon,  the  alms-house  must  receive  him.  I 
then  begged  to  have  an  interview. 

Being  under  no  disgraceful  charge,  and  quite 
serene  and  harmless  in  all  his  ways,  they  had 
permitted  him  freely  to  wander  about  the 
prison,  and,  especially,  in  the  inclosed  grass- 
platted  yards  thereof.  And  so  I  found  him 
there,  standing  all  alone  in  the  quietest  of  the 
yards,  his  face  towards  a  high  wall,  while  all 
around,  from  the  narrow  slits  of  the  jail  win 
dows,  I  thought  I  saw  peering  out  upon  him 
the  eyes  of  murderers  and  thieves. 

"Bartleby!" 

"I  know  you,"  he  said,  without  looking 
round — "and  I  want  nothing  to  say  to  you." 

"It  was  not  I  that  brought  you  here,"  Bar 
tleby,"  said  I,  keenly  pained  at  his  implied 
suspicion.  "And  to  you,  this  should  not  be 


102  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

so  vile  a  place.  Nothing  reproachful  attaches 
to  you  by  being  here.  And  see,  it  is  not  so 
sad  a  place  as  one  might  think.  Look,  there 
is  the  sky,  and  here  is  the  grass." 

"I  know  where  I  am,"  he  replied,  but  would 
say  nothing  more,  and  so  I  left  him. 

As  I  entered  the  corridor  again,  a  broad 
meat-like  man,  in  an  apron,  accosted  me,  and, 
jerking  his  thumb  over  his  shoulder,  said — "Is 
that  your  friend  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"Does  he  want  to  starve?  If  he  does,  let 
him  live  on  the  prison  fare,  that's  all." 

"Who  are  you?"  asked  I,  not  knowing  what 
to  make  of  such  an  unofficially  speaking  person 
in  such  a  place. 

"I  am  the  grub-man.  Such  gentlemen  as 
have  friends  here,  hire  me  to  provide  them 
with  something  good  to  eat." 

"Is  this  so?"  said  I,  turning  to  the  turnkey. 

He  said  it  was. 

"Well,  then,"  said  I,  slipping  some  silver 
into  the  grub-man's  hands  (for  so  they  called 
him),  "I  want  you  to  give  particular  attention 
to  my  friend  there ;  let  him  have  the  best  din- 


BARTLEBY.  103 

ner  you  can  get.  And  you  must  be  as  polite 
to  him  as  possible." 

"Introduce  me,  will  you?"  said  the  grub- 
man,  looking  at  me  with  an  expression  which 
seem  to  say  he  was  all  impatience  for  an  oppor 
tunity  to  give  a  specimen  of  his  breeding. 

Thinking  it  would  prove  of  benefit  to  the 
scrivener,  I  acquiesced;  an'd,  asking  the  grub- 
man  his  name,  went  up  with  him  to  Bartleby. 

"Bartleby,  this  is  a  friend  j  you  will  find 
him  very  useful  to  you." 

"Your  sarvant,  sir,  your  sarvant,"  said  the 
grub-man,  making  a  low  salutation  behind  his 
apron.  "Hope  you  find  it  pleasant  here,  sir; 
nice  grounds — cool  apartments — hope  you'll 
stay  with  us  some  time — try  to  make  it  agree 
able.  What  will  you  have  for  dinner  to-day?" 

"I  prefer  not  to  dine  to-day,"  said  Bartleby, 
turning  away.  "It  would  disagree  with  me; 
I  am  unused  to  dinners."  So  saying,  he  slowly 
moved  to  the  other  side  of  the  inclosure,  and 
took  up  a  position  fronting  the  dead-wall. 

"How's  this?"  said  the  grub-man,  address 
ing  me  with  a  stare  of  astonishment.  "He's 
odd,  ain't  he?" 


104  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

"I  think  he  is  a  little  deranged,"  said  I, 
sadly. 

"Deranged?  deranged  is  it?  Well,  now, 
upon  my  word,  I  thought  that  friend  of  yourn 
was  a  gentleman  forger ;  they  are  always  pale 
and  genteel-like,  them  forgers.  I  can't  help 
pity  'em — can't  help  it,  sir.  Did  you  know 
Monroe  Edwards?"  he  added,  touchingly,  and 
paused.  Then,  laying  his  hand  piteously  on 
my  shoulder,  sighed,  "he  died  of  consumption 
at  Sing-Sing.  So  you  weren't  acquainted  with 
Monroe?" 

"No,  I  was  never  socially  acquainted  with 
any  forgers.  But  I  cannot  stop  longer.  Look 
to  my  friend  yonder.  You  will  not  lose  by  it. 
I  will  see  you  again." 

Some  few  days ,  after  this,  I  again  obtained 
admission  to  the  Tombs,  and  went  through 
the  corridors  in  quest  of  Bartleby;  but  without 
finding  him. 

"I  saw  him  coming  from  his  cell  not  long 
ago,"  said  a  turnkey,  "may  be  he's  gone  to 
loiter  in  the  yards."e 

So  I  went  in  that  direction. 

"Are  you  looking  for  the  silent  man?"  said 


BARTLEBY.  105 

another  turnkey,  passing  me.  "Yonder  he 
lies — sleeping  in  the  yard  there.  'Tis  not 
twenty  minutes  since  I  saw  him  lie  down." 

The  yard  was  entirely  quiet.  It  was  not 
accessible  to  the  common  prisoners.  The  sur 
rounding  walls,  of  amazing  thickness,  kept  off 
all  sounds  behind  them.  The  Egyptian  char 
acter  of  the  masonry  weighed  upon  me  with 
its  gloom.  But  a  soft  imprisoned  turf  grew 
under  foot.  The  heart  of  the  eternal  pyramids, 
it  seemed,  wherein,  by  some  strange  magic, 
through  the  clefts,  grass-seed,  dropped  by  birds, 
had  sprung. 

Strangely  huddled  at  the  base  of  the  wall, 
his  knees  drawn  up,  and  lying  on  his  side,  his 
head  touching  the  cold  stones,  I  saw  the  wast 
ed  Bartleby.  But  nothing  stirred.  I  paused; 
then  went  close  up  to  him;  stooped  over,  and 
saw  that  his  dim  eyes  were  open;  otherwise 
he  seemed  profoundly  sleeping.  Something 
prompted  me  to  touch  him.  I  felt  his  hand, 
when  a  tingling  shiver  ran  up  my  arm  and 
down  my  spine  to  my  feet. 

The  round  face  of  the  grub-man  peered  upon 
me  now.  "His  dinner  is  ready.  Won't  he 


106  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

dine  to-day,  either?  Or  does  he  live  without 
dining?" 

"Lives  without  dining,"  said  I,  and  closed 
the  eyes. 

"Eh!— He's  asleep,  ain't  he?" 

"With  kings  and  counselors,"  murmured  I. 

###### 

There  would  seem  little  need  for  proceeding 
further  in  this  history.  Imagination  will  readi 
ly  supply  the  meagre  recital  of  poor  Bartleby's 
interment.  But,  ere  parting  with  the  reader, 
let  me  say,  that  if  this  little  narrative  has 
sufficiently  interested  him,  to  awaken  curiosity 
as  to  who  Bartleby  was,  and  what  manner 
of  life  he  led  prior  to  the  present  narrator's 
making  his  acquaintance,  I  can  only  reply, 
that  in  such  curiosity  I  fully  share,  but  am 
wholly  unable  to  gratify  it.  Yet  here  I  hardly 
know  whether  I  should  divulge  one  little  item 
of  rumor,  which  came  to  my  ear  a  few  months 
after  the  scrivener's  decease.  Upon  what  basis 
it  rested,  I  could  never  ascertain ;  and  hence, 
how  true  it  is  I  cannot  now  tell.  But,  inas 
much  as  this  vague  report  has  not  been  with 
out  a  certain  suggestive  interest  to  me,  however 


BARTLEBY.  107 

sad,  it  may  prove  the  same  with  some  others ; 
and  so  I  will  briefly  mention  it.  The  report 
was  this :  that  Bartleby  had  been  a  subordinate 
clerk  in  the  Dead  Letter  Office  at  Washington, 
from  which  he  had  been  suddenly  removed  by 
a  change  in  the  administration.  When  I  think 
over  this  rumor,  hardly  can  I  express  the  emo 
tions  which  seize  me.  Dead  letters!  does  it 
not  sound  like  dead  men?  Conceive  a  man  by 
nature  and  misfortune  prone  to  a  pallid  hope 
lessness,  can  any  business  seem  more  fitted  to 
heighten  it  than  that  of  continually  handling 
these  dead  letters,  and  assorting  them  for  the 
flames?  For  by  the  cart-load  they  are  annu 
ally  burned.  Sometimes  from  out  the  folded 
paper  the  pale  clerk  takes  a  ring — the  finger 
it  was  meant  for,  perhaps,  moulders  in  the 
grave;  a  bank-note  sent  in  swiftest  charity — 
he  whom  it  would  relieve,  nor  eats  nor  hungers 
any  more ;  pardon  for  those  who  died  despair 
ing  ;  hope  for  those  who  died  unhoping ;  good 
tidings  for  those  who  died  stifled  by  unrelieved 
calamities.  On  errands  of  life,  these  letters 
speed  to  death. 

Ah,  Bartleby  !  Ah,  humanity ! 


BENITO    CERENO, 

IN  the  year  1799,  Captain  Amasa  Delano, 
of  Duxbury,  in  Massachusetts,  commanding  a 
large  sealer  and  general  trader,  lay  at  anchor 
with  a  valuable  cargo,  in  the  harbor  of  St. 
Maria — a  small,  desert,  uninhabited  island  to 
ward  the  southern  extremity  of  the  long  coast 
of  Chili.  There  he  had  touched  for  water. 

On  the  second  day,  not  long  after  dawn, 
while  lying  in  his  berth,  his  mate  came  below, 
informing  him  that  a  strange  sail  was  coming 
into  the  bay.  Ships  were  then  not  so  plenty  in 
those  waters  as  now.  He  rose,  dressed,  and 
went  on  deck. 

The  morning  was  one  peculiar  to  that  coast. 
Everything  was  mute  and  calm  ;  everything 
gray.  The  sea,  though  undulated  into  long 
roods  of  swells,  seemed  fixed,  and  was  sleeked 
at  the  surface  like  waved  lead  that  has  cooled 
and  set  in  the  smelter's  mould.  The  sky  seemed 
a  gray  surtout.  Flights  of  troubled  gray  fowl, 


110  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

kith  and  kin  with  flights  of  troubled  gray  va 
pors  among  which  they  were  mixed,  skimmed 
low  and  fitfully  over  the  waters,  as  swallows 
over  meadows  before  storms.  Shadows  present, 
foreshadowing  deeper  shadows  to  come. 

To  Captain  Delano's  surprise,  the  stranger, 
viewed  through  the  glass,  showed  no  colors  ; 
though  to  do  so  upon  entering  a  haven,  how 
ever  uninhabited  in  its  shores,  where  but  a 
single  other  ship  might  be  lying,  was  the  cus 
tom  among  peaceful  seamen  of  all  nations. 
Considering  the  lawlessness  and  loneliness  of 
the  spot,  and  the  sort  of  stories,  at  that  day, 
associated  with  those  seas,  Captain  Delano's 
surprise  might  have  deepened  into  some  un 
easiness  had  he  not  been  a  person  of  a  singularly 
undistrustful  goodnature,  riot  liable,  except  on 
extraordinary  and  repeated  incentives,  and  hard 
ly  then,  to  indulge  in  personal  alarms,  any  way 
involving  the  imputation  of  malign  evil  in  man. 
Whether,  in  view  of  what  humanity  is  capable, 
such  a  trait  implies,  along  with  a  benevolent 
heart,  more  than  ordinary  quickness  and  accu 
racy  of  intellectual  perception,  may  be  left  to 
the  wise  to  determine. 


BENITO     CERENO.  Ill 

But  whatever  misgivings  might  have  obtrud 
ed  on  first  seeing  the  stranger,  would  almost,  in 
any  seaman's  mind,  have  been  dissipated  by 
observing  that,  the  ship,  in  navigating  into  the 
harbor,  was  drawing  too  near  the  land ;  a  sunk 
en  reef  making  out  off  her  bow.  This  seemed 
to  prove  her  a  stranger,  indeed,  not  only  to  the 
sealer,  but  the  island  ;  consequently,  she  could 
be  no  wonted  freebooter  on  that  ocean.  With 
no  small  interest,  Captain  Delano  continued  to 
watch  her — a  proceeding  not  much  facilitated 
by  the  vapors  partly  mantling  the  hull,  through 
which  the  far  matin  light  from  her  cabin 
streamed  equivocally  enough  ;  much  like  the 
sun — by  this  time  hemisphered  on  the  rim  of 
the  horizon,  and,  apparently,  in  company  with 
the  strange  ship  entering  the  harbor — which, 
wimpled  by  the  same  low,  creeping  clouds, 
showed  not  unlike  a  Lima  intriguante's  one 
sinister  eye  peering  across  the  Plaza  from  the 
Indian  loop-hole  of  her  dusk  saya-y-manta. 

It  might  have  been  but  a  deception  of  the 
vapors,  but,  the  longer  the  stranger  was  watch 
ed  the  more  singular  appeared  her  manoeuvres. 
Ere  long  it  seemed  hard  to  decide  whether  she 


112  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

meant  to  come  in  or  no — what  she  wanted,  or 
what  she  was  about.  The  wind,  which  had 
breezed  up  a  little  during  the  night,  was  now  ex 
tremely  light  and  baffling,  which  the  more  increas 
ed  the  apparent  uncertainty  of  her  movements. 
Surmising,  at  last,  that  it  might  be  a  ship  in 
distress,  Captain  Delano  ordered  his  whale-boat 
to  be  dropped,  and,  much  to  the  wary  opposition 
of  his  mate,  prepared  to  board  her,  and,  at  the 
least,  pilot  her  in.  On  the  night  previous,  a 
fishing-party  of  the  seamen  had  gone  a  long 
distance  to  some  detached  rocks  out  of  sight 
from  the  sealer,  and,  an  hour  or  two  before  day 
break,  had  returned,  having  met  with  no  small 
success.  Presuming  that  the  stranger  might 
have  been  long  off  soundings,  the  good  captain 
put  several  baskets  of  the  fish,  for  presents,  into 
his  boat,  and  so  pulled  away.  From  her  con 
tinuing  too  near  the  sunken  reef,  deeming  her 
in  danger,  calling  to  his  men,  he  made  all  haste 
to  apprise  those  on  board  of  their  situation. 
But,  some  time  ere  the  boat  came  up,  the  wind, 
light  though  it  was,  having  shifted,  had  headed 
the  vessel  off,  as  well  as  partly  broken  the 
vapors  from  about  her. 


BENITO    CERENO.  113 

Upon  gaining  a  less  remote  view,  the  ship, 
when  made  signally  visible  on  the  verge  of  the 
leaden-hued  swells,  with  the  shreds  of  fog  here 
and  there  raggedly  furring  her,  appeared  like  a 
white- washed  monastery  after  a  thunder-storm, 
seen  perched  upon  some  dun  cliff  among  the 
Pyrenees.  But  it  was  no  purely  fanciful  re 
semblance  which  now,  for  a  moment,  almost 
led  Captain  Delano  to  think  that  nothing  less 
than  a  ship-load  of  monks  was  before  him. 
Peering  over  the  bulwarks  were  what  really 
seemed,  in  the  hazy  distance,  throngs  of  dark 
cowls  ;  while,  fitfully  revealed  through  the 
open  port-holes,  other  dark  moving  figures  were 
dimly  descried,  as  of  Black  Friars  pacing  the 
cloisters. 

Upon  a  still  nigher  approach,  this  appearance 
was  modified,  and  the  true  character  of  the 
vessel  was  plain — a  Spanish  merchantman  of 
the  first  class,  carrying  negro  slaves,  amongst 
other  valuable  freight,  from  one  colonial  port  to 
another.  A  very  large,  and,  in  its  time,  a  very 
fine  vessel,  such  as  in  those  days  were  at  inter 
vals  encountered  along  that  main;  sometimes 
superseded  Acapulco  treasure-ships,  or  retired 


114  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

frigates  of  the  Spanish  king's  navy,  which,  like 
superannuated  Italian  palaces,  still,  under  a 
decline  of  masters,  preserved  signs  of  former 
state. 

As  the  whale-boat  drew  more  and  more  nigh, 
the  cause  of  the  peculiar  pipe-clayed  aspect  of 
the  stranger  was  seen  in  the  slovenly  neglect 
pervading  her.  The  spars,  ropes,  and  ;  great 
part  of  the  bulwarks,  looked  woolly,  from  long 
unacquaintance  with  the  scraper,  tar,  and  the 
brush.  Her  keel  seemed  laid,  her  ribs  put 
together,  and  she  launched,  from  Ezekiel's  Val 
ley  of  Dry  Bones. 

In  the  present  business  in  which  she  was 
engaged,  the  ship's  general  model  and  rig  ap 
peared  to  have  undergone  no  material  change 
from  their  original  warlike  and  Froissart  pat 
tern.  However,  no  guns  were  seen. 

The  tops  were  large,  and  were  railed  about 
with  what  had  once  been  octagonal  net-work, 
all  now  in  sad  disrepair.  These  tops  hung  over 
head  like  three  ruinous  aviaries,  in  one  of 
which  was  seen  perched,  on  a  ratlin,  a  white 
noddy,  a  strange  fowl,  so  called  from  its  lethar 
gic,  somnambulistic  character,  being  frequently 


BENITO     CERENO.  115 

caught  by  hand  at  sea.  Battered  and  mouldy, 
the  castellated  forecastle  seemed  some  ancient 
turret,  long  ago  taken  by  assault,  and  then  left 
to  decay.  Toward  the  stern,  two  high-raised 
quarter  galleries — the  balustrades  here  and 
there  covered  with  dry,  tindery  sea-moss — open 
ing  out  from  the  unoccupied  state-cabin,  whose 
dead-lights,  for  all  the  mild  weather,  were 
hermetically  closed  and  calked — these  tenant- 
less  balconies  hung  over  the  sea  as  if  it  were 
the  grand  Venetian  canal.  But  the  principal 
relic  of  faded  grandeur  was  the  ample  oval  of 
the  shield-like  stern-piece,  intricately  carved 
with  the  arms  of  Castile  and  Leon,  medallion ed 
about  by  groups  of  mythological  or  symbolical 
devices  ;  uppermost  and  central  of  which  was 
a  dark  satyr  in  a  mask,  holding  his  foot  on  the 
prostrate  neck  of  a  writhing  figure,  likewise 
masked. 

Whether  the  ship  had  a  figure-head,  or  only 
a  plain  beak,  was  not  quite  certain,  owing  to 
canvas  wrapped  about  that  part,  either  to  pro 
tect  it  while  undergoing  a  re-furbishing,  or  else 
decently  to  hide  its  decay.  Eudely  painted  or 
chalked,  as  in  a  sailor  freak,  along  the  forward 


116  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

side  of  a  sort  of  pedestal  below  the  canvas, 
was  the  sentence,  "  Seguid  vuestro  jefe"  (follow 
your  leader)  ;  while  upon  the  tarnished  head 
boards,  near  by,  appeared,  in  stately  capitals, 
once  gilt,  the  ship's  name,  "  SAN  DOMINICK," 
each  letter  streakingly  corroded  with  tricklings 
of  copper-spike  rust ;  while,  like  mourning 
weeds,  dark  festoons  of  sea-grass  slimily  swept 
to  and  fro  over  the  name,  with  every  hearse- 
like  roll  of  the  hull. 

As,  at  last,  the  boat  was  hooked  from  the  bow 
along  toward  the  gangway  amidship,  its  keel, 
while  yet  some  inches-  separated  from  the  hull, 
harshly  grated  as  on  a  sunken  coral  reef.  It 
proved  a  huge  bunch  of  conglobated  barnacles 
adhering  below  the  water  to  the  side  like  a 
wen — a  token  of  baffling  airs  and  long  calms 
passed  somewhere  in  those  seas. 

Climbing  the  side,  the  visitor  was  at  once 
surrounded  by  a  clamorous  throng  of  whites 
and  blacks,  but  the  latter  outnumbering  the 
former  more  than  could  have  been  expected, 
negro  transportation-ship  as  the  stranger  in 
port  was.  But,  in  one  language,  and  as  with 
one  voice,  all  poured*out  a  common  tale  of 


BENITO     CERENO.  117 

\ 

suffering  ;  in  which  the  negresses,  of  whom  there 
were  not  a  few,  exceeded  the  others  in  their 
dolorous  vehemence.  The  scurvy,  together 
with  the  fever,  had  swept  off  a  great  part  of 
their  number,  more  especially  the  Spaniards. 
Off  Cape  Horn  they  had  narrowly  escaped  ship 
wreck  ;  then,  for  days  together,  they  had  lain 
tranced  without  wind ;  their  provisions  were 
low  ;  their  water  next  to  none  ;  their  lips  that 
moment  were  baked. 

While  Captain  Delano  was  thus  made  the 
mark  of  all  eager  tongues,  his  one  eager  glance 
took  in  all  faces,  with  every  other  object  about 
him. 

Always  upon  first  boarding  a  large  and  popu 
lous  ship  at  sea,  especially  a  foreign  one,  with 
a  nondescript  crew  such  as  Lascars  or  Manilla 
men,  the  impression  varies  in  a  peculiar  way 
from  that  produced  by  first  entering  a  strange 
house  with  strange  inmates  in  a  strange  land. 
Both  house  and  ship — the  one  by  its  walls  and 
blinds,  the  other  by  its  high  bulwarks  like 
ramparts — hoard  from  view  their  interiors  till 
the  last  moment :  but  in  the  case  of  the  ship 
there  is  this  addition  ;  that  the  living  spectacle 


118  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

it  contains,  upon  its  sudden  and  complete  dis 
closure,  has,  in  contrast  with  the  blank  ocean 
which  zones  it,  something  of  tne  effect  of  en 
chantment.  The  ship  seems  unreal;  these 
strange  costumes,  gestures,  and  faces,  but  a 
shadowy  tableau  just  emerged  from  the  deep, 
which  directly  must  receive  back  what  it 
gave. 

Perhaps  it  was  some  such  influence,  as  above 
is  attempted  to  be  described,  which,  in  Captain 
Delano's  mind,  heightened  whatever,  upon  a 
staid  scrutiny,  might  have  seemed  unusual ; 
especially  the  conspicuous  figures  of  four  elder 
ly  grizzled  negroes,  their  heads  like  black,  dod 
dered  willow  tops,  who,  in  venerable  con 
trast  to  the  tumult  below  them,  were  couched, 
sphynx-like,  one  on  the  starboard  cat-head, 
another  on  the  larboard,  and  the  remaining  pair 
face  to  face  on  the  opposite  bulwarks  above 
the  main-chains.  They  each  had  bits  of  un- 
stranded  old  junk  in  their  hands,  and,  with  a 
sort  of  stoical  self-content,  were  picking  the 
junk  into  oakum,  a  small  heap  of  which  lay 
by  their  sides.  They  accompanied  the  task  with 
a  continuous,  low,  monotonous  chant ;  dron- 


BENITO     CERENO.  119 

ing  and  drilling  away  like  so  many  gray-headed 
bag-pipers  playing  a  funeral  march. 

The  quarter-deck  rose  into  an  ample  elevated 
poop,  upon  the  forward  verge  of  which,  lifted, 
like  the  oakum-pickers,  some  eight  feet  above 
the  general  throng,  sat  along  in  a  row,  sepa 
rated  by  regular  spaces,  the  cross-legged  figures 
of  six  other  blacks  ;  each  with  a  rusty  hatchet 
in  his  hand,  which,  with  a  bit  of  brick  and  a  rag, 
he  was  engaged  like  a  scullion  in  scouring  ; 
while  between  each  two  was  a  small  stack  of 
hatchets,  their  rusted  edges  turned  forward 
awaiting  a  like  operation.  Though  occasion 
ally  the  four  oakum-pickers  would  briefly 
address  some  person  or  persons  in  the  crowd 
below,  yet  the  six  hatchet-polishers  neither 
spoke  to  others,  nor  breathed  a  whisper 
among  themselves,  but  sat  intent  upon  their 
task,  except  at  intervals,  when,  with  the 
peculiar  love  in  negroes  of  uniting  industry 
with  pastime,  two  and  two  they  sideways 
clashed  their  hatchets  together,  like  cym 
bals,  with  a  barbarous  din.  All  six,  unlike 
the  generality,  had  the  raw  aspect  of  unsophis 
ticated  Africans. 


120  THE     PIAZZA      TALES. 

But  that  first  comprehensive  glance  which 
took  in  those  ten  figures,  with  scores  less  con 
spicuous,  rested  but  an  instant  upon  them,  as, 
impatient  of  the  hubbub  of  voices,  the  visitor 
turned  in  quest  of  whomsoever  it  might  be 
that  commanded  the  ship. 

But  as  if  not  unwilling  to  let  nature  make 
known  her  own  case  among  his  suffering  charge, 
or  else  in  despair  of  restraining  it  for  the  time, 
the  Spanish  captain,  a  gentlemanly,  reserved- 
looking,  and  rather  young  man  to  a  stranger's 
eye,  dressed  with  singular  richness,  but  bearing 
plain  traces  of  recent  sleepless  cares  and  dis 
quietudes,  stood  passively  by,  leaning  against 
the  main-mast,  at  one  moment  casting  a  dreary, 
spiritless  look  upon  his  excited  people,  at  the 
next  an  unhappy  glance  toward  his  visitor.  By 
his  side  stood  a  black  of  small  stature,  in  whose 
rude  face,  as  occasionally,  like  a  shepherd's  dog, 
he  mutely  turned  it  up  into  the  Spaniard's,  sor 
row  and  affecfion  were  equally  blended. 

Struggling  through  the  throng,  the  American 
advanced  to  the  Spaniard,  assuring  him  of  his 
sympathies,  and  offering  to  render  whatever 
assistance  might  be  in  his  power.  To  which 


BENITO    CERE  NO.  121 

the  Spaniard  returned  for  the  present  but  grave 
and  ceremonious  acknowledgments,  his  nation 
al  formality  dusked  by  the  saturnine  mood  of 
ill-health. 

But  losing  no  time  in  mere  compliments, 
Captain  Delano,  returning  to  the  gangway,  had 
his  b'asket  of  fish  brought  up ;  and  as  the  wind 
still  continued  light,  so  that  some  hours  at 
least  must  elapse  ere  the  ship  could  be  brought 
to  the  anchorage,  he  bade  his  men  return  to  the 
sealer,  and  fetch  back  as  much  water  as  the 
whale-boat  could  carry,  with  whatever  soft 
bread  the  steward  might  have,  all  the  remain 
ing  pumpkins  on  board,  with  a  box  of  sugar, 
and  a  dozen  of  his  private  bottles  of  cider. 

Not  many  minutes  after  the  boat's  pushing 
off,  to  the  vexation  of  all,  the  wind  entirely 
died  away,  and  the  tide  turning,  began  drifting 
back  the  ship  helplessly  seaward.  But  trust 
ing  this  would  not  long  last,  Captain  Delano 
sought,  with  good  hopes,  to  cheer  up  the  stran 
gers,  feeling  no  small  satisfaction  that,  with  per 
sons  in  their  condition,  he  could — thanks  to  his 
frequent  voyages  along  the  Spanish  main — con 
verse  with  some  freedom  in  their  native  tongue. 


122  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

While  left  alone  with  them,  he  was  not  long 
in  observing  some  things  tending  to  heighten 
his  first  impressions ;  but  surprise  was  lost 
in  pity,  both  for  the  Spaniards  and  blacks, 
alike  evidently  reduced  from  scarcity  of  water 
and  provisions  ;  while  long-continued  suffering 
seemed  to  have  brought  out  the  less  good- 
natured  qualities  of  the  negroes,  besides,  at  the 
same  time,  impairing  the  Spaniard's  authority 
over  them.  But,  under  the  circumstances,  pre 
cisely  this  condition  of  things  was  to  have  been 
anticipated.  In  armies,  navies,  cities,  or  fami 
lies,  in  nature  herself,  nothing  more  relaxes 
good  order  than  misery.  Still,  Captain  Delano 
was  not  without  the  idea,  that  had  Benito 
Cereno  been  a  man  of  greater  energy,  misrule 
would  hardly  have  come  to  the  present  pass. 
But  the  debility,  constitutional  or  induced  by 
hardships,  bodily  and  mental,  of  the  Spanish 
captain,  was  too  obvious  to  be  overlooked.  A 
prey  to  settled  dejection,  as  if  long  mocked 
with  hope  he  would  not  now  indulge  it,  even 
when  it  had  ceased  to  be  a  mock,  the  prospect 
of  that  day,  or  evening  at  furthest,  lying  at 
anchor,  with  plenty  of  water  for  his  people, 


BENITO    CERENO.  123 

and  a  brother  captain  to  counsel  and  befriend, 
seemed  in  no  perceptible  degree  to  encourage 
him.  His  mind  appeared  unstrung,  if  not  still 
more  seriously  affected.  Shut  up  in  these  oaken 
walls,  chained  to  one  dull  round  of  command, 
whose  unconditionally  cloyed  him,  like  some 
hypochondriac  abbot  he  moved  slowly  about, 
at  times  suddenly  pausing,  starting,  or  staring, 
biting  his  lip,  biting  his  finger-nail,  flushing, 
paling,  twitching  his  beard,  with  other  symp 
toms  of  an  absent  or  moody  mind.  This  dis 
tempered  spirit  was  lodged,  as  before  hinted,  in 
as  distempered  a  frame.  He  was  rather  tall, 
but  seemed  never  to  have  been  robust,  and  now 
with  nervous  suffering  was  almost  worn  to  a 
skeleton.  A  tendency  to  some  pulmonary 
complaint  appeared  to  have  been  lately  con 
firmed.  His  voice  was  like  that  of  one  with 
lungs  half  gone — hoarsely  suppressed,  a  husky 
whisper.  No  wonder  that,  as  in  this  state  he 
tottered  about,  his  private  servant  apprehen 
sively  followed  him.  Sometimes  the  negro 
gave  his  master  his  arm,  or  took  his  handker 
chief  out  of  his  pocket  for  him ;  performing 
these  and  similar  offices  with  that  affectionate 


124  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

zeal  which  transmutes  into  something  filial  or 
fraternal  acts  in  themselves  but  menial ;  and 
which  has  gained  for  the  negro  the  repute  of 
making  the  most  pleasing  body-servant  in  the 
world  ;  one,  too,  whom  a  master  need  be  on  no 
stiffly  superior  terms  ^ith,  but  may  treat  with 
familiar  trust ;  less  a  servant  than  a  devoted 
companion. 

Marking  the  noisy  indocility  of  the  blacks 
in  general,  as  well  as  what  seemed  the  sullen 
inefficiency  of  the  whites  it  was  not  without 
humane  satisfaction  that  Captain  Delano  wit 
nessed  the  steady  good  conduct  of  Babo. 

But  the  good  conduct  of  Babo,  hardly  more 
than  the  ill-behavior  of  others,  seemed  to  with 
draw  the  half-lunatic  Don  Benito  from  his 
cloudy  languor.  Not  that  such  precisely  was 
the  impression  made  by  the  Spaniard  on  the 
mind  of  his  visitor.  The  Spaniard's  individual 
unrest  was,  for  the  present,  but  noted  as  a  con 
spicuous  feature  in  the  ship's  general  affliction. 
Still,  Captain  Delano  was  not  a  little  concern 
ed  at  what  he  could  not  help  taking  for  the 
time  to  be  Don  Benito's  unfriendly  indiffer 
ence  towards  himself.  The  Spaniard's  manner, 


BENITO    CERE NO.  125 

too,  conveyed  a  sort  of  sour  and  gloomy  dis 
dain,  which  he  seemed  at  no  pains  to  disguise. 
But  this  the  American  in  charity  ascribed  to 
the  harassing  effects  of  sickness,  since,  in  for 
mer  instances,  he  had  noted  that  there  are  pe 
culiar  natures  on  whom  prolonged  physical 
suffering  seems  to  cancel  every  social  instinct 
of  kindness  ;  as  if,  forced  to  black  bread  them 
selves,  they  deemed  it  but  equity  that  each 
person  coming  nigh  them  should,  indirectly, 
by  some  slight  or  affront,  be  made  to  partake 
of  their  fare. 

But  ere  long  Captain  Delano  bethought  him 
that,  indulgent  as  he  was  at  the  first,  in  judg 
ing  the  Spaniard,  he  might  not,  after  all,  have 
exercised  charity  enough.  At  bottom  it  was 
Don  Benito's  reserve  which  displeased  him  ; 
but  the  same  reserve  was  shown  towards  all 
but  his  faithful  personal  attendant.  Even  the 
formal  reports  which,  according  to  sea-usage, 
were,  at  stated  times,  made  to  him  by  some 
petty  underling,  either  a  white,  mulatto  or 
black,  he  hardly  had  patience  enough  to  listen 
to,  without  betraying  contemptuous  aversion. 
His  manner  upon  such  occasions  was,  in  its 


126  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

degree,  not  rnlike  that  which  might  be  sup 
posed  to  have  been  his  imperial  countryman's, 
Charles  V.,  just  previous  to  the  anchoritish  re 
tirement  of  that  monarch  from  the  throne. 

This  splenetic  disrelish  of  his  place  was 
evinced  in  almost  every  function  pertaining  to  it. 
Proud  as  he  was  moody,  he  condescended  to  no 
personal  mandate.  Whatever  special  orders  were 
necessary,  their  delivery  was  delegated  to  his 
body-servant,  who  in  turn  transferred  them  to 
their  ultimate  destination,  through  runners, 
alert  Spanish  boys  or  slave  boys,  like  pages  or 
pilot-fish  within  easy  call  continually  hovering 
round  Don  Benito.  So  that  to  have  beheld  this 
undemonstrative  invalid  gliding  about,  apa 
thetic  and  mute,  no  landsman  could  have 
dreamed  that  in  him  was  lodged  a  dictatorship 
beyond  which,  while  at  sea,  there  was  no  earth 
ly  appeal. 

Thus,  the  Spaniard,  regarded  in  his  reserve, 
seemed  the  involuntary  victim  of  mental  dis 
order.  But,  in  fact,  his  reserve  might,  in  some 
degree,  have  proceeded  from  design.  If  so, 
then  here  was  evinced  the  unhealthy  climax  of 
that  icy  though  conscientious  policy,  more  or 


BE  NIT  0     CE11ENO.     •  127 

less  adopted  by  all  commanders  of  large  ships, 
which,  except  in  signal  emergencies,  obliterates 
alike  the  manifestation  of  sway  with  every 
trace  of  sociality  ;  transforming  the  man  into 
a  block,  or  rather  into  a  loaded  cannon,  which, 
until  there  is  call  for  thunder,  has  nothing  to 
say. 

Viewing  him  in  this  light,  it  seemed  but  a 
natural  token  of  the  perverse  habit  induced  by 
a  long  course  of  such  hard  self-restraint,  that, 
notwithstanding  the  present  condition  of  his 
ship,  the  Spaniard  should  still  persist  in  a  de 
meanor,  which,  however  harmless,  or,  it  may 
be,  appropriate,  in  a  well-appointed  vessel,  such 
as  the  San  Dominick  might  have  been  at  the 
outset  of  the  voyage,  was  anything  but  judi 
cious  now.  But  the  Spaniard,  perhaps,  thought 
that  it  was  with  captains  as  with  gods  :  reserve, 
under  all  events,  must  still  be  their  cue.  But 
probably  this  appearance  of  slumbering  domin 
ion  might  have  been  but  an  attempted  disguise 
to  conscious  imbecility — not  deep  policy,  but 
shallow  device.  But  be  all  this  as  it  might, 
wThether  Don  Benito's  manner  was  designed  or 
not,  the  more  Captain  Delano  noted  its  pervad- 


128  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

ing  reserve,  the  less  he  felt  uneasiness  at  any 
particular  manifestation  of  that  reserve  towards 
himself. 

Neither  were  his  thoughts  taken  up  by  the 
captain  alone.  Wonted  to  the  quiet  orderli 
ness  of  the  sealer's  comfortable  family  of  a 
crew,  the  noisy  confusion  of  the  San  Domi- 
nick's  suffering  host  repeatedly  challenged  his 
eye.  Some  prominent  breaches,  not  only  of 
discipline  but  of  decency,  were  observed.  These 
Captain  Delano  could  not  but  ascribe,  in  the 
main,  to  the  absence  of  those  subordinate 
deck-officers  to  whom,  along  with  higher  duties, 
is  intrusted  what  may  be  styled  the  police 
department  of  a  populous  ship.  True,  the  old 
oakum-pickers  appeared  at  times  to  act  the 
part  of  monitorial  constables  to  their  country 
men,  the  blacks;  but  though  occasionally  suc 
ceeding  in  allaying  trifling  outbreaks  now 
and  then  between  man  and  man,  they  could 
do  little  or  nothing  toward  establishing  general 
quiet.  The  San  Dominick  was  in  the  condi 
tion  of  a  transatlantic  emigrant  ship,  among 
whose  multitude  of  living  freight  are  some 
individuals,  doubtless,  as  little  troublesome  as 


BENITO     CERENO.  129 

crates  and  bales ;  but  the  friendly  remon 
strances  of  such  with  their  ruder  companions 
are  of  not  so  much  avail  as  the  unfriendly  arm 
of  thfrmate.  What  the  San  Dominick  wanted 
was,  what  the  emigrant  ship  has,  stern  supe 
rior  officers.  But  on  these  decks  not  so  much 
as  a  fourth-mate  was  to  be  seen. 

The  visitor's  curiosity  was  roused  to  learn 
the  particulars  of  those  mishaps  which  had 
brought  about  such  absenteeism,  with  its  con 
sequences  ;  because,  though  deriving  some  ink 
ling  of  the  voyage  from  the  wails  .which  at  the 
first  moment  had  greeted  him,  yet  of  the  de 
tails  no  clear  understanding  had  been  had. 
The  best  account  would,  doubtless,  be  given 
by  the  captain.  Yet  at  first  the  visitor  was 
loth  to  ask  it,  unwilling  to  provoke  some  dis 
tant  rebuff.  But  plucking  up  courage,  he  at 
last  accosted  Don  Benito,  renewing  the  expres 
sion  of  his  benevolent  interest,  adding,  that 
did  he  (Captain  Delano)  but  know  the  particu 
lars  of  the  ship's  misfortunes,  he  would,  per 
haps,  be  better  able  in  the  end  to  relieve 
them.  Would  Don  Benito  favor  him  with  the 

whole  story. 
6*  ' 


130  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

/ 

Don  Benito  faltered  ;  then,  like  some  som 
nambulist  suddenly  interfered  with,  vacantly 
stared  at  his  visitor,  and  ended  by  looking 
down  on  the  deck. .  He  maintained  this  posture 
so  long,  that  Captain  Delano,  almost  equally 
disconcerted,  and  involuntarily  almost  as  rude, 
turned  suddenly  from  him,  walking  forward  to 
accost  one  of  the  Spanish  seamen  for  the  de 
sired  information.  But  he  had  hardly  gone 
five  paces,  when,  with  a  sort  of  eagerness,  Don 
Benito  invited  him  back,  regretting  his  moment 
ary  absence  of  mind,  and  professing  readiness 
to  gratify  him. 

While  most  part  of  the  story  was  being 
given,  the  two  captains  stood  on  the  after  part 
of  the  main-deck,  a  privileged  spot,  no  one 
being  near  but  the  servant. 

"  It  is  now  a  hundred  and  ninety  days," 
began  the  Spaniard,  in  his  husky  whisper, 
"  that  this  ship,  well  officered  and  well  manned, 
with  several  cabin  passengers — some  fifty  Span 
iards  in  all — sailed  from  Buenos  Ayres  bound 
to  Lima,  with  a  general  cargo,  hardware,  Para 
guay  tea  and  the  like — and,"  pointing  forward, 
*'  that  parcel  of  negroes,  now  not  more  than  a 


BENITOCERENO.  131 

hundred  and  fifty,  as  you  see,  but  then  number 
ing  over  three  hundred  souls.  Off  Cape  Horn 
we  had  heavy  gales.  In  one  moment,  by  night, 
three  of  my  best  officers,  with  fifteen  sailors," 
were  lost,  with  the  main-yard ;  the  spar 
snapping  under  them  in  the  slings,  as  they 
sought,  with  heavers,  to  beat  down  the  icy 
sail.  To  lighten  the  hull,  the  heavier  sacks  of 
mata  were  thrown  into  the  sea,  with  most  of 
the  water-pipes  lashed  on  deck  at  the  time. 
And  this  last  necessity  it  was,  combined  with 
the  prolonged  detentions  afterwards  experi 
enced,  which  eventually  brought  about  our 

chief  causes  of  suffering.     When " 

Here  there  was  a  sudden  fainting  attack  of 
his  cough,  brought  on,  no  doubt,  by  his  mental 
distress.  His  servant  sustained  him,  and  draw 
ing  a  cordial  from  his  pocket  placed  it  to  his 
lips.  He  a  little  revived.  But  unwilling  to 
leave  him  unsupported  while  yet  imperfectly 
restored,  the  black  with  one  arm  still  encircled 
Ids  master,  at  the  same  time  keeping  his  eye 
fixed  on  his  face,  as  if  to  watch  for  the  first 
sign  of  complete  restoration,  or  relapse,  as  the 
event  might  prove. 


132  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

The  Spaniard  proceeded,  but  brokenly  and 
obscurely,  as  one  in  a  dream. 

— "Oh,  my  God!  rather  than  pass  through 
what  I  have,  with  joy  I  would  have  hailed  the 
most  terrible  gales;  but " 

His  cough  returned  and  with  increased  vio 
lence;  this  subsiding,  with  reddened  lips  and 
closed  eyes  he  fell  heavily  against  his  sup 
porter. 

"  His,  mind  wanders.  He  was  thinking  of 
the  plague  that  followed  the  gales,"  plaintive 
ly  sighed  the  servant;  "  my  poor,  poor  mas 
ter!"  wringing  oqe  hand,  and  with  the  other 
wiping  the  mouth.  "  But  be  patient,  Senor,' 
again  turning  to  Captain  Delano,  "these  fits 
do  not  last  long;  master  will  soon  be  himself." 

Don  Benito  reviving,  went  on  ;  but  as  this 
portion  of  the  story  was  very  brokenly  deliver 
ed,  the  substance  only  will  here  be  set  down. 

It  appeared  that  after  the  ship  had  been 
many  days  tossed  in  storms  off  the  Cape,  the 
scurvy  broke  out,  carrying  off  numbers  of  the 
whiter  and  blacks.  When  at  last  they  had 
worked  round  into  the  Pacific,  their  spa,rs  and 
sails  were  so  damaged,  and  so  inadequately 


BENITO     CEEENO.  133 

handled  by  the  surviving  mariners,  most  of 
whom  were  become  invalids,  that,  unable  to 
lay  her  northerly  course  by  the  wind,  which 
was  powerful,  the  unmanageable  ship,  for  suc 
cessive  days  and  nights,  was  blown  northwest 
ward,  where  the  breeze  suddenly  deserted  her, 
in  unknown  waters,  to  sultry  calms.  The 
absence  of  the  water-pipes  now  proved  as  fatal 
to  life  as  before  their  presence  had  menaced  it. 
Induced,  or  at  least  aggravated,  by  the  more 
than  scanty  allowance  of  water,  a  malignant 
fever  followed  the  scurvy ;  with  the  excessive 
heat  of  the  lengthened  calm,  making  such  short 
work  of  it  as  to  sweep  away,  as  by  billows, 
whole  families  of  the  Africans,  and  a  yet  larger 
number,  proportionably,'of  the  Spaniards,  in 
cluding,  by  a  luckless  fatality,  every  remaining 
officer  on  board.  Consequently,  in  the  smart 
west  winds  eventually  following  the  calm,  the 
already  rent  sails,  having  to  be  simply  dropped, 
not  furled,  at  need,  had  been  gradually  reduced 
to  the  beggars'  rags  they  were  now.  To  pro 
cure  substitutes  for  his  lost  sailors,  as  well  as 
supplies  of  water  and  sails,  the  captain,  at  the 
earliest  opportunity,  had  made  for  Baldivia,  the 


134  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

southernmost  civilized  port  of  Chili  and  South 
America  ;  but  upon  nearing  the  coast  the  thick 
weather  had  prevented  him  from  so  much  as 
sighting  that  harbor.  Since  which  period,  al 
most  without  a  crew,  and  almost  without 
canvas  and  almost  without  water,  and,  at  inter 
vals,  giving  its  added  dead  to  the  sea,  the  San 
Dominick  had  been  battle-dored  about  by  con 
trary  winds,  inveigled  by  currents,  or  grown 
weedy  in  calms.  Like  a  man  lost  in  woods, 
more  than  once  she  had  doubled  upon  her  own 
track. 

"  But  throughout  these  calamities,"  huskily 
continued  Don  Benito,  painfully  turning  in  the 
half  embrace  of  his  servant,  u  I  have  to  thank 
those  negroes  you  see,  who,  though  to  your 
inexperienced  eyes  appearing  unruly,  have,  in 
deed,  conducted  themselves  with  less  of  rest 
lessness  than  .even  their  owner  could  have 
thought  possible  under  such  circumstances." 

Here  he  again  fell  faintly  back.  Again  his 
mind  wandered ;  but  he  rallied,  and  less  ob 
scurely  proceeded. 

"  Yes,  their  owner  was  quite  right  in  assur 
ing  me  that  no  fetters  would  be  needed  with 


BENITO    CERENO.  135 

his  blacks  ;  so  that  while,  as  is  wont  in  this 
transportation,  those  negroes  4iave  always  re 
mained  upon  deck-— not  thrust  below,  as  in  the 
Guinea-men — they  have,  also,  from  the  begin 
ning,  been  freely  permitted  to  range  within 
given  bounds  at  their  pleasure." 

Once  more  the  faintness  returned — his  mind 
roved — but,  recovering,  he  resumed: 

"  But  it  is  Babo  here  to  whom,  under  God,  I 
owe  not  only  my  own  preservation,  but  like 
wise  to  Jblm,  chiefly,  the  merit  is  due,  of  pacify 
ing  his  more  ignorant  brethren,  when  at  inter 
vals  tempted  to  murmurings." 

"  Ah,  master,"  sighed  the  black,  bowing  his 
face,  "  don't  speak  of  me  ;  Babo  is  nothing  ; 
what  Babo  has  done  was  but  duty." 

"  Faithful  fellow  !"  cried  Captain  Delano. 
"  Don  Benito,  I  envy  you  such  a  friend  ;  slave 
I  cannot  call  him." 

As  master  and  man  stood  before  him,  the 
black  upholding  the  white,  Captain  Delano 
could  not  but  bethink  him  of  the  beauty  of 
that  relationship  which  could  present  such  a 
spectacle  of  fidelity  on  the  one  hand  and  con 
fidence  on  the  other.  The  scene  was  heighten- 


136  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

ed  by  the  contrast  in  dress,  denoting  their 
relative  positions.  The  Spaniard  wore  a  loose 
Chili  jacket  of  dark  velvet ;  white  small-clothes 
and  stockings,  with  silver  buckles  at  the 
knee  and  instep  ;  a  high-crowned  sombrero,  of 
fine  grass  ;  a  slender  sword,  silver  mounted, 
hung  from  a  knot  in  his  sash — the  last  being  an 
almost  invariable  adjunct,  more  for  utility  than 
ornament,  of  a  South  American  gentleman's 
dress  to  this  hour.  Excepting  when  his  oc 
casional  nervous  contortions  brought  about  dis 
array,  there  was  a  certain  precision  in  his  attire 
curiously  at  variance  with  the  unsightly  dis 
order  around ;  'especially  in  the  belittered 
Ghetto,  forward  of  the  main-mast,  wholly  occu 
pied  by  the  blacks. 

The  servant  wore  nothing  but  wide  trowsers, 
apparently,  from  their  coarseness  and  patches, 
made  out  of  some  old  topsail ;  they  were  clean, 
and  confined  at  the  waist  by  a  bit  of  unstranded 
rope,  which,  with  his  composed,  deprecatory 
air  at  times,  made  him  look  something  like  a 
begging  friar  of  St.  Francis. 

However  unsuitable  for  the  time  and  place, 
at  least  in  the  blunt-thinking  American's  eyes, 


BENITO     CERENO.  137 

and  however  strangely  surviving  in  the  midst 
of  all  his  afflictions,  the  toilette  of  Don  Benito 
might  not,  in  fashion  at  least,  have  gone  beyond 
the  style  of  the  day  among  South  Americans 
of  his  class.  Though  on  the  present  voyage 
sailing  from  Buenos  Ayres,  he  had  avowed  him 
self  a  native  and  resident  of  Chili,  whose 
inhabitants  had  not  so  generally  adopted  •  the 
plain  coat  and  once  plebeian  pantaloons  ;  but, 
with  a  becoming  modification,  adhered  to  their 
provincial  costume,  picturesque  as  any  in  the 
world.  Still,  relatively  to  the  pale  history  of 
the  voyage,  and  his  own  pale  face,  there  seem 
ed  something  so  incongruous  in  the  Spaniard's 
apparel,  as  almost  to  suggest  the  image  of  an 
invalid  courtier  tottering  about  London  streets 
in  the  time  of  the  plague. 

The  portion  of  the  narrative  which,  perhaps, 
most  excited  interest,  as  well  as  some  surprise, 
considering  the  latitudes  in  question,  was  the 
long  calms  spoken  of,  and  more.particularly  the 
ship's  so  long  drifting  about.  Without  com 
municating  the  opinion,  of  course,  the  Ameri 
can  could  not  but  impute  at  least  part  of  the 
detentions  both  to  clumsy  seamanship  and 


138  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

faulty  navigation.  Eying  Don  Benito's  small, 
yellow  hands,  he  easily  inferred  that  the  young 
captain  had  not  got  into  command  at  the  hawse- 
hole,  but  the  cabin-window ;  and  if  so,  why 
wonder  at  incompetence,  in  youth,  sickness, 
and  gentility  united  ? 

But  drowning  criticism  in  compassion,  after 
a  fresh  repetition  of  his  sympathies,  Captain 
Delano,  having  heard  out  his  story,  not  only 
engaged,  as  in  the  first  place',  to  see  Don  Benito 
and  his  people  supplied  in  their  immediate 
bodily  needs,  but,  also,  now  further  promised 
to  assist  him  in  procuring  a  large  permanent 
supply  of  water,  as  well  as  some  sails  and  rig 
ging  ;  and,  though  it  would  involve  no  small 
embarrassment  to  himself,  yet  he  would  spare 
three  of  his  best  seamen  for  temporary  deck 
officers  ;  so  that  without  delay  the  ship  might 
proceed  to  Conception,  there  fully  to  refit  for 
Lima,  her  destined  port. 

Such  generosity  was  not  without  its  effect, 
even  upon  the  invalid.  His  face  lighted  up  ; 
eager  and  hectic,  he  met  the  honest  glance  of 
his  visitor.  With  gratitude  he  seemed  over 
come. 


BENITO    CERENO.  139 

'•  This  excitement  is  bad  for  master,"  whis 
pered  the  servant,  taking  his  arm,  and  with 
soothing  words  gently  drawing  him  aside. 

When  Don  Benito  returned,  the  American 
was  pained  to  observe  that  his  hopefulness,  like 
the  sudden  kindling  in  his  cheek,  was  but 
febrile  and  transient. 

Ere  long,  with  a  joyless  mien,  looking  up 
towards  the  poop,  the  host  invited  his  guest  to 
accompany  him  there,  for  the  benefit  of  what 
little  breath  of  wind  might  be  stirring. 

As,  during  the  telling  of  the  story,  Captain 
Delano  had  once  or  twice  started  at  the  oc 
casional  cymballing  of  the  hatchet-polishers, 
wondering  why  such  an  interruption  should  be 
allowed,  especially  in  that  part  of  the  ship,  and 
in  the  ears  of  an  invalid  ;  and  moreover,  as  the 
hatchets  had  anything  but  an  attractive  look, 
and  the  handlers  of  them  still  less  so,  it  was, 
therefore,  to  tell  the  truth,  not  without  some 
lurking  reluctance,  or  even  shrinking,  it  may 
be,  that  Captain  Delano,  with  apparent  complai 
sance,  acquiesced  in  his  host's  invitation.  The 
more  so,  since,  with  an  untimely  caprice  of 
punctilio,  rendered  distressing  by  his  cadaver- 


140  THE      PIAZZA      TALES. 

ous  aspect,  Don  Benito,  with  Castilian  bows, 
solemnly  insisted  upon  his  guest's  preceding  him 
up  the  ladder  leading  to  the  elevation  ;  where, 
one  on  each  side  of  the  last  step,  sat  for  armori 
al  supporters  and  sentries  two  of  the  ominous 
file.  Gingerly  enough  stepped  good  Captain 
Delano  between  them,  and  in  the  instant  of 
leaving  them  behind,  like  one  running  tlie 
gauntlet,  he  felt  an  apprehensive  twitch  in  the 
calves  of  his  legs. 

But  when,  facing  about,  he  saw  the  whole 
file,  like  so  many  organ-grinders,  still  stupidly 
intent  on  their  work,  unmindful  of  everything 
beside,  he  could  not  but  smile  at  his  late 
fidgety  panic. 

Presently,  while  standing  with  his  host, 
looking  forward  upon  the  decks  below,  he  was 
struck  by  one  of  those  instances  of  insubordi 
nation  previously  alluded  to.  Three  black 
boys,  with  two  Spanish  boys,  were  sitting 
together  on  the  hatches,  scraping  a  rude  wood 
en  platter,  in  which  some  scanty  mess  had 
recently  been  cooked.  Suddenly,  one  of  the 
black  boys,  enraged  at  a  wrord  dropped  by  one 
of  his  white  companions,  seized  a  knife,  and, 


BENITO      CERENO.  141 

though  called  to  forbear  by  one  of  the  oakum- 
pickers,  struck  the  lad  over  the  head,  inflicting 
a  gash  from  which  blood  flowed. 

In  amazement,  Captain- Delano  inquired  what 
this  meant.  To  which  the  pale  Don  Benito 
dully  muttered,  that  it  was  merely  the  sport 
of  the  lad. 

"Pretty  serious  sport,  truly,"  rejoined  Cap 
tain  Delano.  "Had  such  a  thing  happened  on 
board  the  Bachelor's  Delight,  instant  punish 
ment  would  have  followed." 

At  these  words  the  Spaniard  turned  upon 
the  American  one  of  his  sudden,  staring,  half- 
lunatic  looks;  then,  relapsing  into  his  torpor, 
answered,  "Doubtless,  doubtless,  Sefior." 

Is  it,  thought  Captain  Delano,  that  this  hap 
less  man  is  one  of  those  paper  captains  I've 
known,  who  by  policy  wink  at  what  by  power 
they  cannot  put  down?  I  know  no  sadder 
sight  than  a  commander  who  has  little  of  com 
mand  but  the  name. 

"I  should  think,  Don  Benito,"  he  now  said, 
glancing  towards  the  oakum-picker  who  had 
sought  to  interfere  with  the  boys,  "that  you 
would  find  it  advantageous  to  keep  all  your 


142  THE      PIAZZA     TALES. 

blacks  employed,  especially  the  younger  ones, 
no  matter  at  what  useless  task,  and  no  matter 
what  happens  to  the  ship.  Why,  even  with 
my  little  band,  I  find  such  a  course  indispensa 
ble.  I  once  kept  a  crew  on  my  quarter-deck 
thrumming  mats  for  my  cabin,  when,  for  three 
days,  I  had  given  up  my  ship — mats,  men,  and 
all — for  a  speedy  loss,  owing  to  the  violence 
of  a  gale,  in  which  we  could  do  nothing  but 
helplessly  drive  before  it." 

"Doubtless,  doubtless,"  muttered  Don  Be- 
nito. 

"But,"  continued  Captain  Delano,  again 
glancing  upon  the  oakum-pickers  and  then  at 
the  hatchet-polishers,  near  by,  "I  see  you  keep 
some,  at  least,  of  your  host  employed." 

"Yes,"  was  again  the  vacant  response. 

"  Those  old  men  there,  shaking  their  pows 
from  their  pulpits,"  continued  Captain  Delano, 
pointing  to  the  oakum-pickers,  "seem  to  act 
the  part  of  old  dominies  to  the  rest,  little 
heeded  as  their  admonitions  are  at  times.  Is 
this  voluntary  on  their  part,  Don  Benito,  or 
have  you  appointed  them  shepherds  to  your 
flock  of  black  sheep  ?" 


BENITO    CERENO.  143 

"What  posts  they  fill,  I  appointed  them," 
rejoined  the  Spaniard,  in  an  acrid  tone,  as  if 
resenting  some  supposed  satiric  reflection. 

"And  these  others,  these  Ashantee  conjurors 
here,"  continued  Captain  Delano,  rather  un 
easily  eying  the  brandished  steel  of  the  hatchet- 
polishers,  where,  in  spots,  it  had  been  brought 
to  a  shine,  "this  seems  a  curious  business  they 
are  at,  Don  Benito?" 

"In  the  gales  we  met,"  answered  the  Spani-' 
ard,  "  what  of  our  general  cargo  was  not 
thrown  overboard  was  much  damaged  by  the 
brine.  Since  coming  into  calm  weather,  I  have 
had  several  cases  of  knives  and  Hatchets  daily 
brought  up  for  overhauling  and  cleaning." 

"A  prudent  idea,  Don  Benito.  You  are 
part  owner  of  ship  and  cargo,  I  presume ;  but 
none  of  the  slaves,  perhaps?" 

'I  am  owner  of  all  you  see,"  impatiently 
returned  Don  Benito,  "except  the  main  com 
pany  of  blacks,  who  belonged  to  my  late  friend, 
Alexandro  Aranda." 

As  he  mentioned  this  name,  his  air  was 
heart-broken ;  his  knees  shook ;  his  servant 
supported  him. 


144  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

Thinking  he  divined  the  cause  of  such  un 
usual  emotion,  to  confirm  his  surmise,  Captain 
Delano,  after  a  pause,  said:  "And  may  I  ask, 
Don  Benito,  whether — since  awhile  ago  you 
spoke  of  some  cabin  passengers — the  friend, 
whose  loss  so  afflicts  you,  at  the  outset  of  the 
voyage  accompanied  his  blacks?" 

"  Yes." 

"But  died  of  the  fever?" 

«  Died  of  the  fever.     Oh,  could  I  but " 

Again  quivering,  the  Spaniard  paused. 

"Pardon  me,"  said  Captain  Delano,  lowly, 
"  but  I  think  that,  by  a  sympathetic  experi 
ence,  I  conjecture,  Don  Benito,  what  it  is  that 
gives  the  keener  edge  to  your  grief.  It  was 
once  my  hard  fortune  to  lose,  at  sea,  a  dear 
friend,  my  own  brother,  then  supercargo.  As 
sured  of  the  welfare  of  his  spirit,  its  departure 
I  could  have  borne  like  a  man ;  but  that  honest 
eye,  that  honest  hand — both  of  which  had  so 
often  met  mine — and  that  warm  heart;  all, 
all — like  scraps  to  the  dogs— to  throw  all  to 
the  sharks!  It  was  then  I  vowed  never  to 
have  for  fellow-voyager  a  man  I  loved,  unless, 
unbeknown  to  him,  I  had  provided  every  re- 


BENITO     CERE  NO.  145 

quisite,  in  case  of  a  fatality,  for  embalming  his 
mortal  part  for  interment  on  shore.  Were 
your  friend's  remains  now  on  board  this  ship, 
Don  Benito,  not  thns  strangely  would  the 
mention  of  his  name  affect  you." 

"On  board  this  ship?"  echoed  the  Spaniard. 
Then,  with  horrified  gestures,  as  directed  against 
some  spectre,  he  unconsciously  fell  into  the 
ready  arms  of  his  attendant,  who,  with  a  silent 
appeal  toward  Captain  Delano,  seemed  be 
seeching  him  not  again  to  broach  a  theme  so 
unspeakably  distressing  to  his  master. 

This  poor  fellow  now,  thought  the  pained 
American,  is  the  victim  of  that  sad  superstition 
which  associates  goblins  with  the  deserted 
body  of  man,  as  ghosts  with  an  abandoned 
house.  How  unlike  are  we  made!  What  to 
me,  in  like  case,  would  have  been  a  solemn 
satisfaction,  the  bare  suggestion,  even,  terrifies 
the  Spaniard  into  this  trance.  Poor  Alexandro 
Aranda !  what  would  you  say  could  you  here 
see  your  friend — who,  on  former  voyages, 
when  you,  for  months,  were  left  behind,  has, 
1  dare  say,  often  longed,  and  longed,  for  one 
peep  at  you — now  transported  with  terror  at 


146  THE      PIAZZA      TALES. 

the  least  thought  of  having  you  anyway  nigh 
him. 

At  this  moment,  with  a  dreary  grave-yard 
toll,  betokening  a  flaw,  the  ship's  forecastle 
bell,  smote  by  one  of  the  grizzled  oakum-pick 
ers,  proclaimed  ten  o'clock,  through  the  leaden 
calm;  when  Captain  Delano's  attention  was 
caught  by  the  moving  figure  of  a  gigantic 
black,  emerging  from  the  general  crowd  below, 
and  slowly  advancing  towards  the  elevated 
poop.  An  iron  collar  wras  about  his  neck, 
from  which  depended  a  chain,  thrice  wound 
round  his  body ;  the  terminating  links  padlocked 
together  at  a  broad  band  of  iron,  his  girdle. 

"How  like  a  mute  Atufal  moves,"  murmured 
the  servant. 

The  black  mounted  the  steps  of  the  poop, 
and,  like  a  brave  prisoner,  brought  up  to  re 
ceive  sentence,  stood  in  unquailing  muteness 
before  Don  Benito,  now  recovered  from  his 
attack. 

At  the  first  glimpse  of  his  approach,  Don 
Benito  had  started,  a  resentful  shadow  swept 
over  his  face ;  and,  as  with  the  sudden  memory 
of  bootless  rage,  his  white  lips  glued  together. 


BENITO    CERENO.  147 

This  is  some  mulish  mutineer,  thought  Cap 
tain  Delano,  surveying,  not  without  a  mixture 
of  admiration,  the  colossal  form  of  the  negro. 

"See,  he  waits  your  question,  master,"  said 
the  servant. 

Thus  reminded,  Don  Benito,  nervously  avert 
ing  his  glance,  as  if  shunning,  by  anticipation, 
some  rebellious  response,  in  a  disconcerted 
voice,  thus  spoke : — 

"  Atufal,  will  you  ask  my  pardon,  now?" 

The  black  was  silent. 

"  Again,  master,"  murmured  the  servant, 
with  bitter  upbraiding  eyeing  his  countryman, 
"Again,  master;  he  will  bend  to  master  yet." 

"Answer,"  said  Don  Benito,  still  averting 
his  glance,  "say  but  the  one  word,  pardon,  and 
your  chains  shall  be  off." 

Upon  this,  the  black,  slowly  raising  both 
arms,  let  them  lifelessly  fall,  his  links  clanking, 
his  head  bowed ;  as  much  as  to  say,  "no,  I  am 
content." 

"Go,". said  Don  Benito,  with  inkept  and 
unknown  emotion. 

Deliberately  as  he  had  come,  the  black 
obeyed. 


148  THE     PIAZZA.     TALES. 

"  Excuse  me,  Don  Benito,"  said  Captain  De 
lano,  "  but  this  scene  surprises  me  ;  what  means 
it,  pray?" 

"  It  means  that  that  negro  alone,  of  all  the 
band,  has  given  me  peculiar  cause  of  offense. 
I  have  put  him  in  chains  ;  I " 

Here  he  paused ;  his  hand  to  his  head,  as  if 
there  were  a  swimming  there,  or  a  sudden  be 
wilderment  of  memory  had  come  over  him  ;  but 
meeting  his  servant's  kindly  glance  seemed  re 
assured,  and  proceeded : — 

"  I  could  not  scourge  such  a  form.  But  I 
told  him  he  must  ask  my  pardon.  As  yet  he 
has  not.  At  my  command,  every  two  hours  he 
stands  before  me." 

"  And  how  long  has  this  been?" 

"  Some  sixty  days." 

"  And  obedient  in  all  else  ?   And  respectful  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Upon  my  conscience,  then,"  exclaimed  Cap 
tain  Delano,  impulsively,  "  he  has  a  royal  spirit 
in  him,  this  fellow." 

"  He  may  have  some,  right  to  it,"  bitterly  re 
turned  Don  Benito,  "  he  says  he  was  king  in  his 
own  land." 


BENITO     CERENO.          '  149 

"  Yes,"  said  the  servant,  entering  a  word, 
"  those  slits  in  Atufal's  ears  once  held  wedges 
of  gold ;  but  poor  Babo  here,  in  his  own  land, 
was  only  a  poor  slave  ;  a  black  man's  slave  wa,s 
Babo,  who  now  is  the  white's." 

Somewhat  annoyed  by  these  conversational 
familiarities,  Captain  Delano  turned  curiously 
upon  the  attendant,  then  glanced  inquiringly 
at  his  master ;  but,  as  if  long  wonted  to  these 
little  informalities,  neither  master  nor  man 
seemed  to  understand  him. 

"  What,  pray,  was^  Atufal's  offense,  Don 
Benito  ?"  asked  Captain  Delano  ;  "  if  it  was 
not  something  very  serious,  take  a  fool's  advice, 
and,  in  view  of  his  general  docility,  as  well  as 
in  some  natural  respect  for  his  spirit,  remit  him 
his  penalty." 

"  No,  no,  master  never  will  do  that,"  here 
murmured  the  servant  to  himself,  "  proud  Atu- 
fal  must  first  ask  master's  pardon.  The  slave 
there  carries  the  padlock,  but  master  here 
carries  the  key." 

His  attention  thus  directed,  Captain  Delano 
now  noticed  for  the  first,  that,  suspended  by  a 
slender  silken  cord,  from  Don  Benito's  neck, 


150  THE      PIAZZA     TALES. 

hung  a  key.  At  once,  from  the  servant's  mut 
tered  syllables,  divining  the  key's  pu-rpose,  he 
smiled  and  said  : — "  So,  Don  Benito — padlock 
and  key — significant  symbols,  truly." 

Biting  his  lip,  Don  Benito  faltered. 

Though  the  remark  of  Captain  Delano,  a 
man  of  such  native  simplicity  as  to  be  incap 
able  of  satire  or  irony,  had  been  dropped  in 
playful  allusion  to-  the  Spaniard's  singularly 
evidenced  lordship  over  the  black  ;  yet  the 
hypochondriac  seemed  some  way  to  have  taken 
it  as  a  malicious  reflection  upon  his  confessed 
inability  thus  far  to  break  down,  at  least,  on  a 
verbal  summons,  the  entrenched  will  of  the 
slave.  Deploring  this  supposed  misconception, 
yet  despairing  of  correcting  it,  Captain  Delano 
shifted  the  subject ;  but  finding  his  companion 
more  than  ever  withdrawn,  as  if  still  sourly 
digesting  the  lees  of  the  presumed  affront 
above-mentioned,  by-and-by  Captain  Delano 
likewise  became  less  talkative,  oppressed, 
against  his  own  will,  by  what  seemed  the  secret 
vindictiveness  of  the  morbidly  sensitive  Spani 
ard.  But  the  good  sailor,  himself  of  a  quite 
contrary  disposition,  refrained,  on  his  part, 


BENITO     CERE NO.  151 

alike  from  the  appearance  as  from  the  feeling 
of  resentment,  and  if  silent,  was  only  so  from 
contagion. 

Presently  the  Spaniard,  assisted  by  his  serv 
ant  somewhat  discourteously  crossed  over  from 
his  guest  ;  a  procedure  which,  sensibly  enough, 
might  have  been  allowed  to  pass  for  idle  ca 
price  of  ill-humor,  had  not  master  and  man, 
lingering  round  the  corner  of  the  elevated 
skylight,  began  whispering  together  in  low 
voices.  This  was  unpleasing.  And  more  ;  the 
moody  air  of  the  Spaniard,  which  at  times  had 
not  been  without  a  sort  of  valetudinarian  state- 
liness,  now  seemed  anything  but  dignified  ; 
while  the  menial  familiarity  of  the  servant  lost 
its  original  charm  of  simple-hearted  attach 
ment. 

In  his  embarrassment,  the  visitor  turned  his 
face  to  the  other  side  of  the  ship.  By  so  do 
ing,  his  glance  accidentally  fell  on  a  young 
Spanish  sailor,  a  coil  of  rope  in  his  hand,  just 
stepped  from  the  deck  to  the  first  round  of 
the  mizzen-rigging.  Perhaps  the  man  would 
not  have  been  particularly  noticed,  were  it 
not  that,  during  his  ascent  to  one  of  the  yards, 


152  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

he,  with  a  sort  of  covert  intentness,  kept  his 
eye  fixed  on  Captain  Delano,  from  whom,  pres 
ently,  it  passed,  as  if  by  a  natural  sequence,  to 
the  two  whisperers. 

His  own  attention  thus  redirected  to  that 
quarter,  Captain  Delano  gave  a  slight  start. 
From  something  in  Don  Benito's  manner  just 
then,  it  seemed  as  if  the  visitor  had,  at  least 
partly,  been  the  subject  of  the  withdrawn  con 
sultation  going  on — a  conjecture  as  little  agree 
able  to  the  guest  as  it  was  little  flattering  to 
the  host. 

The  singular  alternations  of  courtesy  and  ill- 
breeding  in  the  Spanish  captain  were  unac 
countable,  except  on  one  of  two  suppositions — 
innocent  lunacy,  or  wicked  imposture. 

But  the  first  idea,  though  it  might  naturally 
have  occurred  to  an  indifferent  observer,  and, 
in  some  respect,  had  not  hitherto  been  wholly 
a  stranger  to  Captain  Delano's  mind,  yet,  now 
that,  in  an  incipient  way,  he  began  to  regard 
the  stranger's  conduct  something  in  the  light 
of  an  intentional  affront,  of  course  the  idea  of 
lunacy  was  virtually  vacated.  But  if  not  a 
lunatic,  what  then  ?  Under  the  circumstances, 


BENITO     CERENO.  153 

would  a  gentleman,  nay,- any  honest  boor,  act 
the  part  now  acted  by  his  host  ?  The  man  was 
an  impostor.  Some  low-born  adventurer,  mas 
querading  as  an  oceanic  grandee ;  yet  so 
ignorant  of  the  first  requisites  of  mere  gentle- 
manhood  as  to  be  betrayed  into  the  present 
remarkable  indecorum.  That  strange  ceremoni- 
ousness,  too,  at  other  times  evinced,  seemed  not 
uncharacteristic  of  one  playing  a  part  above 
his  real  level.  Benito  Cereno — Don  Benito 
Cereno — a  sounding  name.  One,  too,  at  that 
period,  not  unknown,  in  the  surname,  to  super 
cargoes  and  sea  c.aptains  trading  along  the 
Spanish  Main,  as  belonging  to  one  of  the  most 
enterprising  and  extensive  mercantile  families 
in  all  those  provinces ;  several  members  of  it 
having  titles  ;  a  sort  of  Castilian  Rothschild, 
with  a  noble  brother,  or  cousin,  in  every  great 
trading  town  of  South  America.  The  alleged 
Don  Benito  was  in  early  manhood,  about 
twenty-nine  or  thirty.  To  assume  a  sort  of 
roving  cadetship  in  the  maritime  affairs  of  such 
a  house,  what  more  likely  scheme  for  a  young 
'knave  of  talent  and  spirit?  But  the  Spaniard 
was  a  pale  invalid.  Never  mind.  For  even  to 


154  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

the  degree  of  simulating  mortal  disease,  the 
craft  of  some  tricksters  had  been  known  to 
attain. '  To  think  that,  under  the  aspect  of  in 
fantile  weakness,  the  most  savage  energies 
might  be  couched — those  velvets  of  the  Spani 
ard  but  the  silky  paw  to  his  fangs. 

From  no  train  of  thought  did  these  fancies 
come  ;  not  from  within,  but  from  without ; 
suddenly,  too,  and  in  one  throng,  like  hoar 
frost ;  yet  as  soon  to  vanish  as  the  mild  sun  of 
Captain  Delano's  good-nature  regained  its  me 
ridian. 

Glancing  over  once  more  towards  his  host — 
whose  side-face,  revealed  above  the  skylight, 
was  now  turned  towards  him — he  was  struck 
by  the  profile,  whose  clearness  of  cut  was  re 
fined  by  the  thinness,  incident  to  ill-health,  as 
well  as  ennobled  about  the  chin  by  the  beard. 
Away  with  suspicion.  He  was  a  true  off-shoot 
of  a  true  hidalgo  Cereno. 

Relieved  by  these  and  other  better  thoughts, 
the  visitor,  lightly  humming  a  tune,  now  began 
indifferently  pacing  the  poop,  so  as  not  to  be 
tray  to  Don  Benito  that  he  had  at  all  mistrust 
ed  incivility,  much  less  duplicity  ;  for  such 


B  E  N  I  T  0     C  E  R  E  N  O  .  155 

mistrust  would  yet  be  proved  illusory,  and  by 
the  event ;  though,  for  the  present,  the  circum 
stance  which  had  provoked  that  distrust  re 
mained  unexplained.  But  wThen  that  little 
mystery  should  have  been  cleared  up,  Captain 
Delano  thought  he  might  extremely  regret  it, 
,did  he  allow  Don  Benito  to  become  aware  that 
he  had  indulged  in  ungenerous  surmises.  In 
short,  to  the  Spaniard's  black-letter  text,  it  was 
best,  for  awhile,  to  leave  open  margin. 

Presently,  his  pale  face  twitching  and  over 
cast,  the  Spaniard,  still  supported  by  his  attend 
ant,  moved  over  towards  his  guest,  when,  with 
even  more  than  his  usual  embarrassment,  and  a 
strange  sort  of  intriguing  intonation  in  his 
husky  whisper,  the  following  conversation  be 
gan  :— 

"  Senor,  may  I  ask  how  long  you  have  lain 
at  this  isle?" 

"  Oh,  but  a  day  or  two,  Don  Benito." 

"  And  from  what  port  are  you  last?" 

"  Canton." 

"  And  there,  Seiior,  you  exchanged  your  seal 
skins  for  teas  and  silks,  I  think  you  said?" 

*'  Yes.     Silks,  mostly." 


156  THE     PIAZZA      TALES. 

"  And  the  balance  you  took  in  specie,  per 
haps?" 

Captain  Delano,  fidgeting  a  little,  answer 
ed— 

"  Yes  ;  some  silver  ;  not  a  very  great  deal, 
though." 

"  Ah — well.  May  I  ask  how  many  men 
have  you,  Sefior  ?" 

Captain  Delano  slightly  started,  but  answer 
ed— 

"About  five-arid-twenty,  all  told." 

"And  at  present,  Senor,  all  on  board,  I  sup 
pose  ?" 

"All  on  board,  Don  Benito,"  replied  the 
Captain,  now  with  satisfaction. 

"  And  will  be  to-night,  Senor  ?" 

At  this  last  question,  following  so  many  per 
tinacious  ones,  for  the  soul  of  him  Captain 
Delano  could  not  but  look  very  earnestly  at 
the  questioner,  who,  instead  of  meeting  the 
glance,  with  every  token  of  craven  discompo 
sure  dropped  his  eyes  to  the  deck  ;  presenting 
an  unworthy  contrast  to  his  servant,  who,  just 
then,  was  kneeling  at  his  feet,  adjusting  a  loose 
shpe-buckle ;  his  disengaged  face  meantime, 


BENITO     CERENO.  157 

with  humble  curiosity,  turned  openly  up  into 
his  master's  downcast  one. 

The  Spaniard,  still  with  a  guilty  shuffle,  re 
peated  his  question  : 

"And — and  will  be  to-night,  Seiior?" 

"Yes,  for  aught  I  know,"  returned  Captain 
Delano — "but  nay,"  rallying  himself  into  fear 
less  truth,  "  some  of  them  talked  of  going  off 
on  another  fishing  party 'about  midnight." 

"Your  ships  generally  go — go  more  or  less 
armed,  I  believe,  Senor?" 

"  Oh,  a  six-pounder  or  two,  in  case  of  emer 
gency,"  was  the  intrepidly  indifferent  reply, 
"  with  a  small  stock  of  muskets,  sealing-spears, 
and  cutlasses,  you  know." 

As  he  thus  responded,  Captain  Delano  again 
glanced  at  Don  Benito,  but  the  latter's  eyes 
were  averted ;  while  abruptly  and  awkwardly 
shifting  the  subject,  he  made  some  peevish  al 
lusion  to  the  calm,  and  then,  without  apology, 
once  more,  with  his  attendant,  withdrew  to 
the  opposite  bulwarks,  where  the  whispering 
was  resumed. 

At  this  moment,  and  ere  Captain  Delano 
could  cast  a  cool  thought  upon  what  had  just 


158  THE     PIAZZA      TALES. 

passed,  the  young  Spanish  sailor,  before  men 
tioned,  was  seen  descending  from  the  rigging. 
In  act  of  stooping  over  to  spring  inboard  to 
the  deck,  his  voluminous,  uncorifined  frock,  or 
shirt,  of  coarse  woolen,  much  spotted  with 
tar,  opened  out  far  down  the  chest,  revealing 
a  soiled  under  garment  of  what  seemed  the 
finest  linen,  edged,  about  the  neck,  with  a 
narrow  blue  ribbon,  sadly  faded  and  worn.  At 
this  moment  the  young  sailor's  eye  was  again 
fixed  on  the  whisperers,  and  Captain  Delano 
thought  lie  observed  a  lurking  significance  in 
it,  as  if  silent  signs,  of  some  Freemason  sort, 
had  that  instant  been  interchanged. 

This  "once  more  impelled  his  own  glance  in 
the  direction  of  Don  Benito,  and,  as  before, 
he  could  not  but  infer  that  himself  formed  the 
subject  of  the  conference.  He  paused.  'The 
sound  of  the  hatchet-polishing  fell  on  his  ears. 
He  cast  another  swift  side-look  at  the  two. 
They  had  the  air  of  conspirators.  In  connec 
tion  with  the  late  questionings,  and  the  inci 
dent  of  the  young  sailor,  these  things  now 
begat  such  return  of  involuntary  suspicion,  that 
the  singular  guilelessness  of  the  American  could 


BENITO     CERENO.  159 

not  endure  it.  Plucking  up  a  gay  and  humor 
ous  expression,  he  crossed  over  to  the  two 
rapidly,  saying  : — "Ha,  Don  Benito,  your  black 
here  seems  high  in  your  trust ;  a  sort  of  privy- 
counselor,  in  fact." 

Upon  this,  the  servant  looked  up  with  a 
good-natured  grin,  but  the  master  started  as 
from  a  venomous  bite.  It  was  a  moment  or 
two  before  the  Spaniard  sufficiently  recovered 
himself  to  reply ;  which  he  did,  at  last,  with 
cold  constraint : — "  Yes,  Seiior,  I  have  trust  in 
Babo." 

Here  Babo,  changing  his  previous  grin  of 
mere  animal  humor  into  an  intelligent  smile, 
not  ungratefully  eyed  his  master. 

Finding  that  the  Spaniard  now  stood  silent 
and  reserved,  as  if  involuntarily,  or  purposely 
giving  hint  that  his  guest's  proximity  was  in 
convenient  just  then,  Captain  Delano,  unwill 
ing  to  appear  uncivil  even  to  incivility  itself, 
made  some  trivial  remark  and  moved  off;  again 
and  again  turning  over  in  his  mind  the  myste 
rious  demeanor  of  Don  Benito  Cereno. 

He  had  descended  from  the  poop,  and, 
wrapped  in  thought,  was  passing  near  a  dark 


160  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

hatchway,  leading  down  into  the  steerage, 
when,  perceiving  motion  there,  he  looked  to 
see  what  moved.  The  same  instant  there  was 
a  sparkle  in  the  shadowy  hatchway,  and  he 
saw  one  of  the  Spanish  sailors,  prowling  there, 
hurriedly  placing  Jhis  hand  in  the  bosom  of  his 
frock,  as  if  hiding  something.  Before  the  man 
could  have  been  certain  who  it  was  that  wras 
passing,  he  slunk  below  out  of  sight.  But 
enough  was  seen  of  him  to  make  it  sure  that 
he  was  the  same  young  sailor  before  noticed  in 
the  rigging. 

What  was  that  which  so  sparkled?  thought 
Captain  Delano.  It  was  no  lamp — no  match — 
no  live  coal.  Could  it  have  been  a  jewel? 
But  how  come  sailors  with  jewels? — or  with 
silk-trimmed  under-shirts  either?  Has  he  been 
robbing  the  trunks  of  the  dead  cabin-passen 
gers?  But  if  so,  he  would  hardly  wear  one  of 
the  stolen  articles  on  board  ship  here.  Ah,  ah 
— if,  now,  that  was,  indeed,  a  secret  sign  I  saw 
passing  between  this  suspicious  fellow  and  his 
captain  awhile  since;  if  I  could  only  be  certain 
that,  in  my  uneasiness,  my  senses  did  not  de 
ceive  me,  then 


BENITO     CERENO.  161 

Here,  passing  from  one  suspicious  thing  to 
another,  his  mind  revolved  the  strange  ques 
tions  put  to  him  concerning  his  ship. 

By  a  curious  coincidence,  as  each  point  was 
recalled,  the  black  wizards  of  Ashantee  would 
strike  up  with  their  hatchets,  as  in  ominous 
comment  on  the  white  stranger's  thoughts. 
Pressed  by  such  enigmas  and  portents,  it  would 
have  been  almost  against  nature,  had  not,  even 
into  the  least  distrustful  heart,  some  ugly  mis 
givings  obtruded. 

Observing  the  ship,  now  helplessly  fallen 
into  a  current,  with  enchanted  sails,  drifting 
with  increased  rapidity  seaward ;  and  noting 
that,  from  a  lately  intercepted  projection  of  the 
land,  the  sealer  was  hidden,  the  stout  mariner 
began  to  quake  at  thoughts  which  he  barely 
durst  confess  to  himself.  Above  all,  he  began 
to  feel  a  ghostly  dread  of  Don  Benito.  And 
yet,  when  he  roused  himself,  dilated  his  chest, 
felt  himself  strong  on  his  legs,  and  coolly  con 
sidered  it — what  did  all  these  phantoms  amount 
to? 

Had  the  Spaniard  any  sinister  scheme,  it 
must  have  reference  not  so  much  to  him  (Cap- 


1G2  THE     PIAZZA      TALES. 

tain  Delano)  as  to  bis  ship  (the  Bachelor's 
Delight).  Hence  the  present  drifting  away  of 
the  one  ship  from  the  other,  instead  of  favoring 
any  such  possible  scheme,  was,  for  the  time,  at 
leaSt,  opposed  to  it.  Clearly  any  suspicion, 
combining  such  contradictions,  must  need  be 
delusive.  Beside,  was  it  not  absurd  to  think 
of  a  vessel  in  distress — a  vessel  by  sickness 
almost  dismanned  of  her  crew — a  vessel  whose 
inmates  were  parched  for  water — was  it  not  a 
thousand  times  absurd  that  such  a  craft  should, 
at  present,  be  of  a  piratical  character;  or  her 
commander,  either  for  himself  or  those  under 
him,  cherish  any  desire  but  for  speedy  relief 
and  refreshment  ?  But  then,  might  not  gene 
ral  distress,  and  thirst  in  particular,  be  Affect 
ed  ?  And  might  riot  that  same  undiminished 
Spanish  crew,  alleged  to  have  perished  off  to  a 
remnant,  be  at  that  very  moment  lurking  in 
the  hold?  On  heart-broken  pretense  of  en 
treating  a  cup*  of  cold  water,  fiends  in  human 
form  had  got  into  lonely  dwellings,  nor  retired 
until  a  dark  deed  had  been  done.  And  among 
the  Malay  pirates,  it  was  no  unusual  thing  to 
lure  ships  after  them  into  their  treacherous 


BENITO     CERENO.  163 

harbors,  or  entice  boarders  from  a  declared 
enemy  at  sea,  by  the  spectacle  of  thinly  manned 
or  vacant  decks,  beneath  which  prowled  a 
hundred  spears  with  yellow  arms  ready  to 
upthrust  them  through  the  mats.  Not  that 
Captain  Delano  had  entirely  credited  such 
things.  He  had  heard  of  them — and  now,  as 
stories,  they  recurred.  The  present  destina 
tion  of  the  ship  was  the  anchorage.  There 
she  would  be  near  his  own  vessel.  Upon  gain 
ing  that  vicinity,  might  not  the  San  Dominick, 
like  a  si  umbering^  volcano,  suddenly  let  loose 
energies  now  hid  ? 

He  recalled  the  Spaniard's  manner  while 
telling  his  story.  There  was  a  gloomy  hesi 
tancy  and  subterfuge  about  it.  It  was  just  the 
manner  of  one  making  up  his  tale  for  evil 
purposes,  as  iie  goes.  But  if  that  story  was 
not  true,  what  was  the  truth?  That  the  ship 
had  unlawfully  come  into  the  Spaniard's  pos 
session?  But  in  many  of  its  details,  especially 
in  reference  to  the  more  calamitous  parts,  such 
as  the  fatalities  among  the  seamen,  the  conse 
quent  prolonged  beating  about,  the  past  suffer 
ings  from  obstinate  calms,  and  still  continued 


1G4  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

suffering  from  thirst ;  in  all  these  points,  as 
well  as  others,  Don  Benito's  story  had  cor 
roborated  not  only  the  wailing  ejaculations  of 
the  indiscriminate  multitude,  white  and  black, 
but  likewise — what  seemed  impossible  to  be 
counterfeit — by  the  very  expression  and  play 
of  every  human  feature,  which  Captain  Delano 
saw.  If  Don  Benito's  story  was,  throughout, 
an  invention,  then  every  soul  on  board,  down 
to  the  youngest  negress,  was  his  carefully 
drilled  recruit  in  the  plot :  an  incredible  infer 
ence.  And  yet,  if  there  was  ground  for  mis 
trusting  his  veracity,  that  inference  was  a 
legitimate  one. 

But  those  questions  of  the  Spaniard.  There, 
indeed,  one  might  pause.  Did  they  not  seem 
put  with  much  the  same  object  with  which 
the  burglar  or  assassin,  by  day-time,  reconnoi 
tres  the  walls  of  a  house?  But,  with  ill  pur 
poses,  to  solicit  such  information  openly  of  the 
chief  person  endangered,  and  so,  in  effect,  set 
ting  him  on  his  guard ;  how  unlikely  a  pro 
cedure  was  that?  Absurd,  then,  to  suppose 
that  those  questions  had  been  prompted  by 
evil  designs.  Thus,  the  same  conduct,  which, 


BENITO     CERENO.  165 

in  this  instance,  had  raised  the  alarm,  served 
to  dispel  it.  In  short,  scarce  any  suspicion  or 
uneasiness,  however  apparently  reasonable  at 
the  time,  which  was  not  now,  with  equal  ap 
parent  reason,  dismissed. 

At  last  he  began  to  laugh  at  his  former  fore 
bodings;  and  laugh  at  the  strange  ship  for, 
in  its  aspect,  someway  siding  with  them,  as 
it  were;  and  laugh,  too,  at  the  odd-looking 
blacks,  particularly  those  old  scissors-grinders, 
the  Ashantees ;  and  those  bed-ridden  old  knit 
ting  women,  the  oakum-pickers;  and  almost  at 
the  dark  Spaniard  himself,  the  central  hobgob 
lin  of  all. 

For  the  rest,  whatever  in  a  serious  way 
seemed  enigmatical,  was  now  good-naturedly 
explained  away  by  the  thought  that,  for  the 
most  part,  the  poor  invalid  scarcely  knew  what 
he  was  about;  either  sulking  in  black  vapors, 
or  putting  idle  questions  without  sense  or  ob 
ject.  Evidently,  for  the  present,  the  man  was 
not  fit  to  be  intrusted  with  the  ship.  On 
some  benevolent  plea  withdrawing  the  com 
mand  from  him,  Captain  Delano  would  yet 
have  to  send  her  to  Conception,  ia  charge  of 


166  THE.  PIAZZA     TALES. 

his  second  mate,  a  worthy  person  and  good 
navigator — a  plan  not  more  convenient  for  the 
San  Dominick  than  for  Don  Benito;  for,  re 
lieved  from  all  anxiety,  keeping  wholly  to  his 
cabin,  the  sick  man,  under  the  good  nursing 
of  his  servant,  would,  probably,  by  the  end  of 
the  passage,  be  in  a  measure  restored  to  health, 
and  with  that  he  should  also  be  restored  to 
authority. 

Such  were  the  American's  thoughts.  They 
were  tranquilizing.  There  was  a  difference 
between  the  idea  of  Don  Benito's  darkly 
pre-ordaining  Captain  Delano's  fate,  and  Cap 
tain  Delano's  lightly  arranging  Don  Benito's. 
Nevertheless,  it  was  not  without  something  of 
relief  that  the  good  seaman  presently  perceived 
his  whale-boat  in  the  distance.  Its  absence 
had  been  prolonged  by  unexpected  detention 
at  the  sealer's  side,  as  well  as  its  returning  trip 
lengthened  by  the  continual  recession  of  the 
goal. 

The  advancing  speck  was  observed  by  the 
blacks.  Their  shouts  attracted  the  attention 
of  Don  Benito,  who,  with  a  return  of  cour 
tesy,  approaching  Captain  Delano,  expressed 


BENITO     CERENO.  167 

satisfaction  at  the  coming  of  some  supplies, 
slight  and  temporary  as  they  must  necessarily 
prove. 

Captain  Delano  responded ;  but  while  doing 
so,  his  attention  was  drawn  to  something  pass 
ing  on  the  deck  below :  among  the  crowd 
climbing  the  landward  bulwarks,  anxiously 
watching  the  coming  boat,  two  blacks,  to  all 
appearances  accidentally  incommoded  by  one 
of  the  sailors,  violently  pushed  him  aside,  which 
the  sailor  someway  resenting,  they  dashed  him 
to  the  deck,  despite  the  earnest  cries  of  the 
oakum-pickers. 

"  Don  Benito,"  said  Captain  Delano  quickly, 
"  do  you  see  what  is  going  on  there  ?  Look!" 

But,  seized  by  his  cough,  the  Spaniard  stag- 
gere"cl,  with  both  hands  to  his  face,  on  the  point 
of  falling.  Captain  Delano  would  have  sup 
ported  him,  but  the  servant  was  more  alert, 
who,  with  one  hand  sustaining  his  master,  with 
the  other  applied  the  cordial.  Don  Benito  re 
stored,  the  black  withdrew  his  support,  slipping 
aside  a  little,  but  dutifully  remaining  within 
call  of  a  whisper.  Such  discretion  was  here 
evinced  as  quite  wiped  away,  in  the  visitor's 


168  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

eyes,  any  blemish  of  impropriety  which  might 
have  attached  to  the  attendant,  from  the  inde 
corous  conferences  before  mentioned  ;  showing, 
too,  that  if  the  servant  were  to  blame,  it  might 
be  more  the  master's  fault  than  his  own,  since, 
when  left  to  himself,  he  could  conduct  thus 
well. 

His  glance  called  away  from  the  spectacle  of 
disorder  to  the  more  pleasing  one  before  him, 
Captain  Delano  could  not  avoid  again  congratu 
lating  his  host  upon  possessing  such  a  servant, 
who,  though  perhaps  a  little  too  forward  now 
and  then,  must  upon  the  whole  be  invaluable 
to  one  in  the  invalid's  situation. 

"  Tell  me,  Don  Benito,"  he  added,  with  a 
smile — "  I  should  like  to  have  your  man  here, 
myself — what  will  you  take  for  him  ?  Would 
fifty  doubloons  be  any  object?" 

"  Master  wouldn't  part  with  Babo  for  a 
thousand  doubloons,"  murmured  the  black, 
overhearing  the  offer,  and  taking  it  in  earnest, 
and,  with  the  strange  vanity  of  a  faithful  slave, 
appreciated  by  his  master,  scorning  to  hear  so 
paltry  a  valuation  put  upon  him  by  a  stranger. 
But  Don  Benito,  apparently  hardly  yet  com- 


BENITO     CERE NO.  1G9 

pletely  restored,  and  again  interrupted  by  his 
cough,  made  but  some  broken  reply. 

Soon  his  physical  distress  became  so  great, 
affecting  his  mind,  too,  apparently,  that,  as 
if  to  screen  the  sad  spectacle,  the  servant 
gently  conducted  his  master  below. 

Left  to  himself,  the  American,  to  while 
away  the  time  till  his  boat  should  arrive, 
would  have  pleasantly  accosted  some  one  of 
the  few  Spanish  seamen  he  saw  ;  but  recall 
ing  something  that  Don  Benito  had  said  touch 
ing  their  ill  conduct,  he  refrained  ;  as  a  ship 
master  indisposed  to  countenance  cowardice 
or  unfaithfulness  in  seamen. 

While,  with  these  thoughts,  standing  with  eye 
directed  forward  towards  that  handful  of  sail 
ors,  suddenly  he  thought  that  one  or  two  of 
them  returned  the  glance  and  with  a  sort  of 
meaning.  He  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  looked 
again ;  but  again  seemed  to  see  the  same 
thing.  Under  a  new  form,  but  more  obscure 
than  any  previous  one,  the  old  suspicions  re 
curred,  but,  in  the  absence  of  Don  Benito, 
with  less  of  panic  than  before.  Despite  the  bad 
account  given  of  the  sailors,  Captain  Delano 


170  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

resolved  forthwith  to  accost  one  of  them.  De 
scending  the  poop,  he  made  his  way  through 
the  blacks,  his  movement  drawing  a  queer 
cry 'from  the  oakum-pickers,  prompted  by 
whom,  the  negroes,  twitching  each  other  aside, 
divided  before  him  ;  but,  as  if  curious  to  see 
what  was  the  object  of  this  deliberate  visit 
to  their  Ghetto,  closing  in  behind,  in  toler 
able  order,  followed  the  white  stranger  up. 
His  progress  thus  proclaimed  as  by  mounted 
kings-at-arms,  and  escorted  as  by  a  Caffre 
guard  of  honor,  Captain  Delano,  assuming  a 
good-humored,  off-handed  air,  continued  to 
advance  ;  now  and  then  saying  a  blithe  word 
to  the  negroes,  and  his  eye  curiously  survey 
ing  the  white  faces,  here  and  there  sparsely 
mixed  in  with  the  blacks,  like  stray  white 
pawns  venturously  involved  in  the  ranks  of 
the  chess-men  opposed. 

While  thinking  which  of  them  to  select  for 
his    purpose,    he    chanced  to  observe  a  sailor 
seated  on  the  deck  engaged  in  tarring  the  strap  . 
of  a  large  block,  a  circle  of  blacks  squatted 
round  him  inquisitively  eying  the  process. 

The  mean  employment  of  the  man  was  in 


BENITO     CERE  NO.       v  171 

contrast  with  something  superior  in  his  fig 
ure.  His  hand,  black  with  continually  thrust 
ing  it  into  the  tar-pot  held  for  him  by  a 
negro,  seemed  not  naturally  allied  to  his  face, 
a  face  which  would  have  been  a  very  fine  one 
but  for  its  haggardness.  Whether  this  hag- 
gardness  had  aught  to  do  with  criminality, 
could  not  be  determined  ;  since,  as  intense 
heat  and  cold,  though  unlike,  produce  like 
sensations,  so  innocence  and  guilt,  when, 
through  casual  association  with  mental  pain, 
stamping  any  visible  impress,  use  one  seal — 
a  hacked  one. 

Not  again  that  this  reflection  occurred  to 
Captain  Delano  at  the  time,  charitable  man 
as  he  was.  Rather  another  idea.  Because  ob 
serving  so  singular  a  haggardness  combined 
with  a  dark  eye,  averted  as  in  trouble  and 
shame,  and  then  again  recalling  Don  Benito's 
confessed  ill  opinion  of  his  crew,  insensibly  he 
was  operated  upon  by  certain  general  notions 
which,  while  disconnecting  pain  and  abash 
ment  from  virtue,  invariably  link  them  with 
vice. 

If,  indeed,  there  be  any  wickedness  on  board 


172  THE      PIAZZA     TALES. 

this  ship,  thought  Captain  Delano,,  be  sure 
that  man  there  has  fouled  his  hand  in  it,  even 
as  now  he  fouls  it  in  the  pitch.  I  don't  like 
to  accost  him.  I  will  speak  to  this  other, 
this  old  Jack  here  on  the  windlass. 

He  advanced  to  an  old  Barcelona  tar,  in 
ragged  red  breeches  and  dirty  night-cap, 
cheeks  trenched  and  bronzed,  whiskers  dense 
as  thorn  hedges.  Seated  between  two  sleepy- 
looking  Africans,  this  mariner,  like  his  young 
er  shipmate,  was  employed  upon  some  rigging 
— splicing  a  cable — the  sleepy-looking  blacks 
performing  the  inferior  function  of  holding  the 
outer  parts  of  the  ropes  for  him. 

Upon"  Captain  Delano's  approach,  the  man 
at  once  hung  his  head  below  its  previous 
level ;  the  one  necessary  for  business.  It  ap 
peared  as  if  he  desired  to  be  thought  absorb 
ed,  with  more  than  common  fidelity,  in  his 
task.  Being  addressed,  he  glanced  up,  but 
with  what  seemed  a  furtive,  diffident  air, 
which  sat  strangely  enough  on  his  weather- 
beaten  visage,  much  as  if  a  grizzly  bear,  in 
stead  of  growling  and  biting,  should  simper 
and  cast  sheep's  eyes.  He  was  tfsked  several 


BENITO     CERENO.  173 

questions  concerning  the  voyage  —  questions 
purposely  referring  to  several  particulars  in 
Don  Benito's  narrative,  not  previously  corro 
borated  by  those  impulsive  cries  greeting  the 
visitor  on  first  coming  on  board.  The  questions 
were  briefly  answered,  confirming  all  that 
remained  to  be  confirmed  of  the  story.  The 
negroes  about  the  windlass  joined  in  with 
the  old  sailor;  but,  as  they  became  talkative, 
he  by  degrees  became  mute,  and  at  length 
quite  glum,  seemed  morosely  unwilling  to  an 
swer  more  questions,  and  yet,  all  the  while, 
this  ursine  air  was  somehow  mixed  with  his 
sheepish  one: 

Despairing  of  getting  into  unembarrassed 
talk  with  such  a.  centaur,  Captain  Delano, 
after  glancing  round  for  a  more  promising 
countenance,  but  seeing  none,  spoke  pleasantly 
to  the  blacks  to  make  way  for  him  ;  and  so, 
amid  various  grins  and  grimaces,  returned  to 
the  poop,  feeling  a  little  strange  at  first,  he 
could  hardly  tell  why,  but  upon  the  whole 
with  regained  confidence  in  Benito  Cereno. 

How .  plainly,  thought  he,  did  that  old 
wliiskerando  yonder  betray  a  consciousness  of 


174  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

ill  desert.  No  doubt,  when  he  saw  me  com 
ing,  he  dreaded  lest  I,  apprised  by  his  Captain 
of  the  crew's  general  misbehavior,  came  with 
sharp  words  for  him,  and  so  down  with  his 
head.  And  yet — and  yet,  now  that  I  think  of 
it,  that  very  old  fellow,  if  I  err  not,  was  one  of 
those  who  seemed  so  earnestly  eying  me  here 
awhile  since.  Ah,  these  currents  spin  one's 
head  round  almost  as  much  as  they  do  'the  ship. 
Ha,  there  now's  a  pleasant  sort  of  sunny  sight ; 
quite  sociable,  too. 

His  attention  had  been  drawn  to  a  slumber 
ing  negress,  partly  disclosed  through  the  lace- 
work  of  some  rigging,  lying,  with  youthful 
limbs  carelessly  disposed,  under  the  lee  of  the 
bulwarks,  like  a  doe  in  the  shade  of  a  wood 
land  rock.  Sprawling  at  her  lapped  breasts, 
was  her  \vide-awake  fawn,  stark  naked,  its 
black  little  body  half  lifted  from  the  deck, 
crosswise  with  its  dam's ;  its  hands,  like  two 
pawrs,  clambering  upon  her ;  its  mouth  and 
nose  ineffectually  rooting  to  get  at  the  mark ; 
and  meantime  giving  a  vexatious  half-grunt, 
blending  with  the  composed  snore  of  the 
negress. 


BENITO     CERE  NO.  175 

The  uncommon  vigor  of  the  child  at  length 
roused  the  mother.  She  started  up,  at  a  dis 
tance  facing  Captain  Delano.  But  as  if  not  at 
all  concerned  at  the  attitude  in  which  she  had 
been  caught,  delightedly  she  caught  the  child 
up,  with  maternal  transports,  covering  it  with 
kisses. 

There's  naked  nature,  now ;  pure  tender 
ness  and  love,  thought  Captain  Delano, 
well  pleased. 

This  incident  prompted  him  to  remark  the 
other  negresses  more  particularly  than  before. 
He  was  gratified  with  theirjnanners:  like  most 
uncivilized  women,  they  seemed  at  once  tender 
of  heart  and  tough  of  constitution ;  equal 
ly  ready  to  die  for  their  infants  or  fight  for 
them.  Unsophisticated  as  leopardesses  ;  loving 
as  doves.  Ah!  thought  Captain  Delano,  these, 
perhaps,  are  some  of  the  very  women  whom 
Ledyard  saw  in  Africa,  and  gave  such  a  noble 
account  of. 

These  natural  sights  somehow  insensibly 
deepened  his  confidence  and  ease.  At  last  he 
looked  to  see  how  his  boat  was  getting  on  ; 
but  it  was  still  pretty  remote.  He  turned  to 


176  THE      PIAZZA      TALES. 

see  if  Don  Benito  had  returned  ;  but  he  had 
not. 

To  change  the  scene,  as  well  as  to  please 
himself  with  a  leisurely  observation  of  the 
coming  boat,  stepping  over  into  the  mizzen- 
chains,  he  clambered  his  way  into  the  starboard 
quarter-gallery — one  of  those  abandoned  Vene 
tian-looking  water-balconies  previously  men 
tioned — retreats  cut  off  from  the  deck.  As  his 
foot  pressed  the  half-damp,  half-dry  sea-mosses 
matting  the  place,  and  a  chance  phantom  cats- 
paw — an  islet  of  breeze,  unheralded,  unfollow- 
ed — as  this  ghostly  cats -paw  came  fanning  his 
cheek  ;  as  his  glance  fell  upon  the  row  of  small, 
round  dead-lights — all  closed  like  coppered 
eyes  of  the  coffined— and  the  state-cabin  door, 
once  connecting  with  the  gallery,  even  as  the 
dead-lights  had  once  looked  out  upon  it,  but 
now  calked  fast  like  a  sarcophagus  lid;  and  to  a 
purple-black  tarred-over,  panel,  threshold,  and 
post;  and  he  bethought  him  of  the  time,  when 
that  state-cabin  and  this  state-balcony  had 
heard  the  voices  of  the  Spanish  king's  officers, 
and  the  forms  of  the  Lima  viceroy's  daughters 
had  perhaps  leaned  where  he  stood — as  these 


BENITO      CERENO.  177 

and  other  images  flitted  through  his  mind,  as 
the  cats-paw  through  the  calm,  gradually  he 
felt  rising  a  dreamy  inquietude,  like  that  of  one 
who  alone  on  the  prairie  feels  unrest  from  the 
repose  of  the  noon. 

He  leaned  against  the  carved  balustrade, 
again  looking  off  toward  his  boat ;  but  found 
his  eye  falling  upon  the  ribbon  grass,  trailing 
along  the  ship's  water-line,  straight  as  a  border 
of  green  box  ;  and  parterres  of  sea-weed,  broad 
ovals  and  crescents,  floating  nigh  and  far,  with 
what  seemed  long  formal  alleys  between, 
crossing  the  terraces  of  swells,  and  sweeping 
round  as  if  leading  to  the  grottoes  below.  And 
overhanging  all  was  the  balustrade  by  his  arm, 
which,  partly  stained  with  pitch  and  partly 
embossed  with  moss,  seemed  the  charred  ruin 
of  some  summer-house  in  a  grand  garden  long 
running  to  waste. 

Trying  to  break  one  charm,  he  was  but  be- 
charmed  anew.  Though  upon  the  wide  sea,  he 
seemed  in  some  far  inland  country ;  prisoner  in 
some  deserted  chateau,  left  to  stare  at  empty 
grounds,  and  peer  o'ut  at  vague  roads,  where 

never  wagon  or  wayfarer  passed, 

8* 


178  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

But  these  enchantments  were  a  little  dis 
enchanted  as  his  eye  fell  on  the  corroded  main- 
chains.  Of  an  ancient  style,  massy  and  rusty 
in  link,  shackle  and  bolt,  they  seemed  even 
more  fit  for  the  ship's  present  business  than  the 
one  for  which  she  had  been  built. 

Presently  he  thought  something  moved  nigh 
the  chains.  He  rubbed  his  eyes,  and  looked 
hard.  Groves  of  rigging  were  about  the  chains; 
and  there,  peering  from  behind  a  great  stay, 
like  an  Indian  from  behind  a  hemlock,  a  Span 
ish  sailor,  a  marlingspike  in  his  hand,  was 
seen,  who  made  what  seemed  an  imperfect 
gesture  towards  the  balcony,  but  immediately, 
as  if  alarmed  by  some  advancing  step  along  the 
deck  within,  vanished  into  the  recesses  of  the 
hempen  forest,  like  a  poacher. 

What  meant  this?  Something  the  man  had 
sought  to  communicate,  unbeknown  to  any 
one,  even  to  his  captain.  Did  the  secret  in 
volve  aught  unfavorable  to  his  captain?  Were 
those  previous  misgivings  of  Captain  Delano's 
about  to  be  verified?  Or,  in  his  haunted  mood 
at  the  moment,  had  some  random,  uninten 
tional  motion  of  the  man,  while  busy  with  the 


BE3ITO     CERE NO.  179 

stay,  as  if  repairing  it,  been  mistaken  for  a 
significant  beckoning? 

Not  unbewildered,  again  he  gazed  off  for  his 
boat.  But  it  was  temporarily  hidden  by  a 
rocky  spur  of  the  isle.  As  with  some  eager 
ness  he  bent  forward,  watching  for  the  first 
shooting  view  of  its  beak,  the  balustrade  gave 
way  before  him  like  charcoal.  Had  he  not 
clutched  an  outreaching  rope  he  would  have 
fallen  into  the  sea.  The  crash,  though  feeble, 
and  the  fall,  though  hollow,  of  the  rotten  frag 
ments,  must  have  been  overheard.  He  glanced 
up.  With  sober  curiosity  peering  down  upon 
him  was  one  of  the  old  oakum-pickers,  slipped 
from  his  perch  to  an  outside  boom  ;  while  be 
low  the  old  negro,  and,  invisible  to  him,  recon^- 
noitering  from  a  port-hole  like  a  fox  from  the 
mouth  of  its  den,  crouched  the  Spanish  sailor 
again.  From  something  suddenly  suggested 
by  the  man's  air,  the  mad  idea  now  darted  into 
Captain  Delano's  mind,  that  Don  Benito's  plea 
of  indisposition,  in  withdrawing  below,  was 
but  a  pretense :  that  he  was  engaged  there 
maturing  his  plot,  of  which  the  sailor,  by  some 
means  gaining  an  inkling,  had  a  mind  to  warn 


180  THE     PIA/ZA     TALES. 

the  stranger  against ;  incited,  it  may  be,  by 
gratitude  for  a  kind  word  on  first  boarding  the 
ship.  Was  it  from  foreseeing  some  possible 
interference  like  this,  that  Don  Benito  had,  be 
forehand,'  given  such  a  bad  character  of  his 
sailors,  while  praising  the  negroes ;  though, 
indeed,  the  former  seemed  as  docile  as  the 
latter  the  contrary?  The  whites,  too,  by 
nature,  were  the  shrewder  race.  A  man  with 
some  evil  design,  would  he  not  be  likely  to 
speak  well  of  that  stupidity  which  was  blind 
to  his  depravity,  and  malign  that  intelligence 
from  which  it  might  not  be  hidden  ?  Not  un 
likely,  perhaps.  But  if  the  whites  had  dark 
secrets  concerning  Don  Benito,  could  then  Don 
Benito  be  any  way  in  complicity  with  the 
blacks?  But  they  were  too  stupid.  Besides, 
who  ever  heard  of* a  white  so  far  a  renegade  as 
to  apostatize  from  his  very  species  almost,  by 
leaguing  in  against  it  with  negroes?  These 
difficulties  recalled  former  ones.  Lost  in  their 
mazes,  Captain  Delano,  who  had  now  regained 
the  deck,  was  uneasily  advancing  along  it, 
when  he  observed  a  new  face ;  an  aged  sailor 
seate4  prpss-Jeggecl  near  the  main  hatchway. 


BENITO     CEEENO.  181 

His  skin  was  shrunk  up  with  wrinkles  like  a 
pelican's  empty  pouch ;  his  hair  frosted ;  his 
countenance  grave  and  composed.  His  hands 
were  full  of  ropes,  which  he  was  working  into 
a  large  knot.  Some  blacks  were  about  him 
obligingly  dipping  the  strands  for  him,  here 
and  there,  as  the  exigencies  of  the  operation 
demanded. 

Captain  Delano  crossed  over  to  him,  and 
stood  in  silence  surveying  the  knot ;  his  mind, 
by  a  not  uncongenial  transition,  passing  from 
its  own  entanglements  to  those  of  the  hemp. 
For  intricacy,  such  a  knot  he  had  never  seen  in 
an  American  ship,  nor  indeed  any  other.  The 
old  man  looked  like  an  Egyptian  priest,  making 
Gordian  knots  for  the  temple  of  Amrnon.  The 
knot  seemed  a  combination  of  double-bowline- 
knot,  treble-crown-knot,  back-handed-well- 
knot,  knot-in-and-out-knot,  and  jamming-knot. 

At  last,  puzzled  to  comprehend  the  meaning 
of  such  a  knot,  Captain  Delano  addressed  the 
knotter: — 

"  What  are  you  knotting  there,  my  man  ?" 

"The  knot,"  was  the  brief  reply,  without 
looking  up. 


182  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

"  So  it  seems  ;  but  what  is  it  for?" 

"  For  some  one  else  to  undo,"  muttered  back 
the  old  man,  plying  his  fingers  harder  than 
ever,  the  knot  being  now  nearly  completed. 

While  Captain  Delano  stood  watching  him, 
suddenly  the  old  man  threw  the  knot  towards 
him,  saying  in  broken  English — the  first  heard 
in  the  ship — something  to  this  effect :  "  Undo 
it,  cut  it,  quick."  It  was  said  lowly,  but  with 
such  condensation  of  rapidity,  that  the  long, 
slow  words  in  Spanish,  which  had  preceded 
and  followed,  almost  operated  as  covers  to  the 
brief  English  between. 

For  a  moment,  knot  in  hand,  and  knot  in 
head,  Captain  Delano  stood  mute  ;  while,  with 
out  further  heeding  him,  the  old  man  was  now 
intent  upon  other  ropes.  Presently  there  was 
a  slight  stir  behind  Captain  Delano.  Turning, 
he  saw  the  chained  negro,  Atufal,  standing 
quietly  there.  The  next  moment  the  old 
sailor  rose,  muttering,  and,  followed  by  his 
subordinate  negroes,  removed  to  the  forward 
part  of  the  ship,  where  in  the  crowd  he  dis 
appeared. 

An  elderly  negro,  in  a  clout  like  an  infant's, 


BENITO     CERENO.  183 

and  with  a  pepper  and  salt  head,  and  a  kind  of 
attorney  air,  now  approached  Captain  Delano. 
In  tolerable  Spanish,  and  with  a  good-natured, 
knowing  wink,  he  informed  him  that  the  old 
knotter  was  simple-witted,  but  harmless ; 
often  playing  his  odd  tricks.  The  negro  con 
cluded  by  begging  the  knot,  for  of  course  the 
stranger  would  not  care  to  be  troubled  with  it. 
Unconsciously,  it  was  handed  to  him.  With  a 
sort  of  conge,  the  negro  received  it,  and,  turn 
ing  his  back,  ferreted  into  it  like  a  detective 
custom-house  officer  after  smuggled  laces. 
Soon,  with  some  African  word,  equivalent  to 
pshaw,  he  tossed  the  knot  overboard. 

All  this  is  very  queer  now,  thought  Captain 
Delano,  with  a  qualmish  sort  of  emotion  ;  but, 
as  one  feeling  incipient  sea-sickness,  he  strove, 
by  ignoring  the  symptoms,  to  get  rid  of  the 
malady.  Once  more  he  looked  off  for  his  boat. 
To  his  delight,  it  was  now  again  in  view,  leav 
ing  the  rocky  spur  astern. 

The  sensation  here  experienced,  after  at  first 
relieving  his  uneasiness,  with  unforeseen  efficacy 
soon  began  to  remove  it.  The  less  distant 
sight  of  that  well-known  boat — showing  it,  not 


184  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

as  before,  half  blended  with  the  haze,  but  with 
outline  defined,  so  that  its  individuality,  like  a 
man's,  was  manifest ;  that  boat,  Rover  by  name, 
which,  though  now  in  strange  seas,  had  often 
pressed  the  beach  of  Captain  Delano's  home, 
and,  brought  to  its  threshold  for  repairs,  had 
familiarly  lain  there,  as  a  Newfoundland  dog  ; 
the  sight  of  that  household  boat  evoked  a 
thousand  trustful  associations,  which,  contrast 
ed  with  previous  suspicions,  filled  him  not  only 
with  lightsome  confidence,  but  somehow  with 
half  humorous  self-reproaches  at  his  former 
lack  of  it. 

"  What,  I,  Amasa  Delano — Jack  of  the 
Beach,  as  they  called  me  when  a  lad — I,  Amasa ; 
the  same  that,  duck-satchel  in  hand,  used  to 
paddle  along  the  water-side  to  the  school-house 
made  from  the  old  hulk — I,  little  Jack  of  the 
Beach,  that  used  to  go  berrying  with  cousin 
Nat  and  the  rest ;  I  to  be  murdered  here  at  the 
ends  of  the  earth,  on  board  a  haunted  pirate- 
ship  by  a  horrible  Spaniard  ?  Too  nonsensical 
to  think  of!  Who  would  murder  Amasa  De 
lano?  His  conscience  is  clean.  There  is  some 
one  above.  Fie,  fie,  Jack  of  the  Beach  !  you 


BENITO     CEKENO.  185 

are  a  child  indeed  ;  a  child  of  the  second  child 
hood,  old  boy  ;  you  are  beginning  to  dote  and 
drule,  I'm  afraid." 

Light  of  heart  and  foot,  he  stepped  aft,  and 
there  was  met  by  Don  Benito's  servant,  who, 
with  a  pleasing  expression,  responsive  to  his 
own  present  feelings,  informed  him  that  his 
master  had  recovered  from  the  effects  of  his 
coughing  fit,  and  had  just  ordered  him  to  go 
present  his  compliments  to  his  good  guest, 
Don  Amasa,  and  say  that  he  (Don  Benito) 
would  soon  have  the  happiness  to  rejoin  him. 

There  now,  do  you  mark  that  ?  again  thought 
Captain  Delano,  walking  the  poop.  What  a 
donkey  I  was.  This  kind  gentleman  who  here 
sends  me  his  kind  compliments,  he,  but  ten 
minutes  ago,  dark-lantern  in  had,  was  dodging 
round  some  old  grind-stone  in  the  hold,  sharp 
ening  a  hatchet  for  me,  I  thought.  Well,  well ; 
these  long  calms  have  a  morbid  effect  on  the 
mind,  I've  often  heard,  though  I  never  be 
lieved  it  before.  Ha!  glancing  towards  the 
boat;  there's  Rover;  good  dog;  a  white* bone 
in  her  mouth.  A  pretty  big  bone  though, 
seems  to  me.— What?  Yes,  she  has  fallen 


186  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

afoul  of  the  bubbling  tide-rip  there.  It  sets 
her  the  other  way,  too,  for  the  time.  Patience. 

It  was  now  about  noon,  though,  from  the 
grayness  of  everything,  it  seemed  to  be  getting 
towards  dusk. 

The  calm  was  confirmed.  In  the  far  distance, 
away  from  the  influence  of  land,  the  leaden 
ocean  seemed  laid  out  and  leaded  up,  its  course 
finished,  soul  gone,  defunct.  But  the  current 
from  landward,  where  the  ship  was,  increased; 
silently  sweeping  her  further  and  further  to 
wards  the  tranced  waters  beyond.- 

Still,  from  his  knowledge  of  those  latitudes, 
cherishing  hopes  of  a  breeze,  and  a  fair  and 
fresh  one,  at  any  moment,  Captain  Delano, 
despite  present  prospects,  buoyantly  counted 
upon  bringing  the  San  Dominick  safely  to 
anchor  ere  night.  The  distance  swept  over 
was  nothing;  since,  with  a  good  wind,  ten 
minutes'  sailing  would  retrace  more  than  sixty 
minutes,  drifting.  Meantime,  one  moment  turn 
ing  to  mark  "  Rover"  fighting  the  tide-rip,  and 
the  next  to  see  Don  Benito  approaching,  he 
continued  walking  the  poop. 

Gradually  he  felt  a  vexation  arising  from  the 


BENITO     CERENO.  187 

delay  of  his  boat ;  this  soon  merged  into  un 
easiness  ;  and  at  last — his  eye  falling  continual 
ly,  as  from  a  stage-box  into  the  pit,  upon  the 
strange  crowd  before  and  below  him,  and,  by- 
and-by,  recognizing  there  the  face — now  com 
posed  to  indifference — of  the  Spanish  sailor 
who  had  seemed  to  beckon  from  the  main- 
chains — some-thing  of  his  old  trepidations  re 
turned. 

Ah,  thought  he — gravely  enough — this  is 
like  the  ague :  because  it  went  off,  it  follows 
not  that  it  won't  come  back. 

Though  ashamed  of  the  relapse,  he  could  not 
altogether  subdue  it ;  and  so,  exerting  his  good 
nature  to  the  utmost,  insensibly  he  came  to  a 
compromise. 

Yes,  this  is  a  strange  craft ;  a  strange  his 
tory,  too,  and  strange  folks  on  board.  But — 
nothing  more. 

By  way  of  keeping  his  mind  out  of  mischief 
till  the  boat  should  arrive,  he  tried  to  occupy 
it  with  turning  over  and  over,  in  a  purely 
speculative  sort  of  way,  some  lesser  peculi 
arities  of  the  captain  and  crew.  Among  others, 
four  curious  points  recurred  : 


188  THE    PIAZZA   TALES. 

First,  the  affair  of  the  Spanish  lad  assailed 
with  a  knife  by  the  slave  boy;  an  act  winked 
at  by  Don  Benito.  Second,  the  tyranny  in 
Don  Benito's  treatment  of  Atufal,  the  black  ; 
as  if  a  child  should  lead  a  bull  of  the  Nile  by 
the  ring  in  his  nose.  Third,  the  trampling  of 
the  sailor  by  the  two  negroes;  a  piece  of  inso 
lence  passed  over  without  so  much  as  a  repri 
mand.  Fourth,  the  cringing  submission  to 
their  master,  of  all  the  ship's  underlings,  most 
ly  blacks ;  as  if  by  the  least  inadvertence 
they  feared  to  draw  down  his  despotic  dis 
pleasure. 

Coupling  these  points,  they  seemed  some 
what  contradictory.  But  what  then,  thought 
Captain  Delano,  glancing  towar'ds  his  now 
nearing  boat — what  then?  Why,  Don  Benito 
is  a  very  capricious  commander.  But  he  is  not 
the  first  of  the  sort  I  have  seen;  though  it's 
true  he  rather  exceeds  any  other.  But  as  a 
nation — continued  he  in  his  reveries — these 
Spaniards  are  all  an  odd  set ;  the  very  word 
Spaniard  has  a  curious,  conspirator,  Guy- 
Fawkish  twang  to  it.  And  yet,  I  dare  say, 
Spaniards  in  the  main  are  as  good  folks  as  any 


BENITO     CERE  NO.  189 

in  Duxbury,  Massachusetts.  Ah  good!  At 
last  "  Rover"  has  come. 

As,  with  its  welcome  freight,  the  boat 
touched  the  side,  the  oakum-pickers,  with 
venerable  gestures,  sought  to  restrain  the 
blacks,  who,  at  the  sight  of  three  gurried 
water-casks  in  its  bottom,  and  a  pile  of  wilted 
pumpkins  in  its  bow,  hung  over  the  bulwarks 
in  disorderly  raptures. 

Don  Benito,  with  his  servant,  now  appeared ; 
his  coming,  perhaps,  hastened  by  hearing  the 
noise.  Of  him  Captain  Delano  sought  permis 
sion  to  serve  out  the  water,  so  that  all  might 
share  alike,  and  none  injure  themselves  by  un 
fair  excess.  But  sensible,  and,  on  Don  Benito's 
account,  kind  as  this  offer  was,  it  was  received 
with  what  seemed  impatience  ;  as  if  aware  that 
he  lacked  energy  as  a  commander,  Don  Beni 
to,  with  the  true  jealousy  of  weakness,  resented 
as  an  affront  any  interference.  So,  at  least, 
Captain  Delano  inferred. 

In  another  moment  the  casks  were  being 
hoisted  in,  when  some  of  the  eager  negroes 
accidentally  jostled  Captain  Delano,  where  he 
stood  by  the  gangway ;  so  that,  unmindful  of 


190  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

Don  Benito,  yielding  to  the  impulse  of  the 
moment,  with  good-natured  authority  he  bade 
the  blacks  stand  back ;  to  enforce  his  words 
making. use  of  a  half-mirthful,  half-menacing 
gesture.  Instantly  the  blacks  paused,  just 
where  they  were,  each  negro  and  negress  sus 
pended  in  his  or  her  posture,  exactly  as  the 
word  had  found  them — for  a  few  seconds  con 
tinuing  so — while,  as  between  the  responsive 
posts  of  a  telegraph,  an  unknown  syllable  ran 
from  man  to  man  among  the  perched  oakum- 
pickers.  While  the  visitor's  attention  was 
fixed  by  this  scene,  suddenly  the  hatchet- 
polishers  half  rose,  and  a  rapid  cry  came  from 
Don 'Benito. 

Thinking  that  at  the  signal  of  the  Spaniard 
he  was  about  to  be  massacred,  Captain  Delano 
would  have  sprung  for  his  boat,  but  paused,  as 
the  oakum-pickers,  dropping  down  into  the 
crowd  with  earnest  exclamations,  forced  every 
white  and  every  negro  back,  at  the  same  mo 
ment,  with  gestures  friendly  and  familiar, 
almost  jocose,  bidding  him,  in  substance,  not 
be  a  fool.  Simultaneously  the  hatchet-polish 
ers  resumed  their  seats,  quietly  as  so  many 


BENITO     CEEENO.  191 

tailors,  and  at  once,  as  if  nothing  had  happened, 
the  work  of  hoisting  in  the  casks  was  resumed, 
whites  and  blacks  singing  at  the  tackle. 

Captain  Delano  glanced  towards  Don  Benito. 
As  he  saw  his  meagre  form  in  the  act  of  re 
covering  itself  from  reclining  in  the  servant's 
arms,  into  which  the  agitated  invalid  had  fall 
en,  he  could  not  but  marvel  at  the  panic  by 
which  himself  had  been  surprised,  on  the  dart 
ing  supposition  that  such  a  commander,  who, 
upon  a  legitimate  occasion,  so  trivial,  too,  as 
it  now  appeared,  could  lose  all  self-command, 
was,  with  energetic  iniquity,  going  to  bring 
about  his  murder. 

The  casks  being  on  deck,  Captain  Delano 
was  handed  a  number  of  jars  and  cups  by  one 
of  the  steward's  aids,  who,  in  the  name  of  his 
captain,  entreated  him  to  do  as  he  had  proposed — 
dole  out  the  water.  He  complied,  with  repub 
lican  impartiality  as  to  this  republican  element, 
which  always  seeks  one  level,  serving  the  oldest 
white  no  better  than  the  youngest  black  ;  ex 
cepting,  indeed,  poor  Don  Benito,  whose  condi 
tion,  if  not  rank,  demanded  an  extra  allowance. 
To  him,  in  the  first  place,  Captain  Delano  pre- 


192  THE     TIAZZA      TALES. 

sented  a  fair  pitcher  of  the  fluid  ;  but,  thirsting 
as  he  was  for  it,  the  Spaniard  quaffed  not  a  drop 
until  after  several  grave  bows  and  salutes.  A 
reciprocation  of  courtesies  which  the  sight-lov 
ing  Africans  hailed  with  clapping  of  hands. 

Two  of  the  less  wilted  pumpkins  being  reserved 
for  the  cabin  table,  the  residue  were  minced  up 
on  the  spot  for  the  general  regalement.  But 
the  soft  bread,  sugar,  and  bottled  cider,  Captain 
Delano  would  have  given  the  whites  alone,  and 
in  chief  Don  Benito ;  but  the  latter  objected; 
which  disinterestedness  not  a  little  pleased  the 
American  ;  and  so  mouthfuls  all  around  were 
given  alike  to  whites  and  blacks  ;  excepting  one 
bottle  of  cider,  which  Babo  insisted  upon  setting 
aside  for  his  master. 

Here  it  may  be  observed  that  as,  on  the  first 
visit  of  the  boat,  the  American  had  not  per 
mitted  his  men  to  board  the  ship,  neither  did  he 
now ;  being  unwilling  to  add  to  the  confusion 
of  the  decks. 

Not  uninfluenced  by  the  peculiar  good-humor 
at  present  prevailing,  and  for  the  time  oblivious 
of  any  but  benevolent  thoughts,  Captain  Delano, 
who,  from  recent  indications,  counted  upon  a 


BENITO     CERENO.  193 

breeze  within  an  hour  or  two  at  furthest,  dis 
patched  the  boat  back  to  the  sealer,  with  orders 
for  all  the  hands  that  could  be  spared  immedi 
ately  to  set  about  rafting  casks  to  the  water 
ing-place  and  filling  them.  Likewise  he  bade 
word  be  carried  to  his  chief  officer,  that  if, 
against  present  expectation,  the  ship  was  not 
brought  to  anchor  by  sunset,  he  need  be  under 
no  concern ;  for  as  there  was  to  be  a  full  moon 
that  night,  he  (Captain  Delano)  would  remain 
on  board  ready  to  play  the  pilot,  come  the  wind 
soon  or  late. 

As  the  two  Captains  stood  together,  observing 
the  departing  boat — the  servant,  as  it  happened, 
having  just  spied  a  spot  on  his  master's  velvet 
sleeve,  and  silently  engaged  rubbing  it  out — the 
American  expressed  his  regrets  that  the  San 
Dominick  had  no  boats  ;  none,  at  least,  but  the 
unseaworthy  old  hulk  of  the  long-boat,  which, 
warped  as  a  camel's  skeleton  in  the  desert,  and 
almost  as  bleached,  lay  pot-wise  inverted  amid 
ships,  one  side  a  little  tipped,  furnishing  a  sub 
terraneous  sort  of  den  for  family  groups  of  the 
blacks,  mostly  women  and  small  children  ;  who, 
squatting  on  old  mats  below,  or  perched  above 


194  THE      PIAZZA      TALES. 

in  the  dark  dome,  on  the  elevated  seats,  were 
descried,  some  distance  within,  like  a  social  cir 
cle  of  bats,  sheltering  in  some  friendly  cave  ;  at 
intervals,  ebon  flights  of  naked  boys  and  girls, 
three  or  four  years  old,  darting  in  and  out  of  the 
den's  mouth. 

"  Had  you  three  or  four  boats  now,  Don 
Benito,"  said  Captain  Delano,  "  I  think  that,  by 
tugging  at  the  oars,  your  negroes  here  might 
help  along  matters  some.  Did  you  sail  from 
port  without  boats,  Don  Benito?" 

"  They  were  stove  in  the  gales,  Senor." 

"  That  was  bad.  Many  men,  too,  you  lost 
then.  Boats  and  men.  Those  must  have  been 
hard  gales,  Don  Benito." 

"  Past  all  speech,"  cringed  the  Spaniard. 

"  Tell  me,  Don  Benito,"  continued  his  com- 
.panion  with  increased  interest,  "tell  me,  were 
these  gales  immediately  off  the  pitch  of  Cape 
Horn?" 

"  Cape  Horn  ? — who  spoke  of  Cape  Horn  ?" 

"Yourself  did,  when  giving  me  an  account 
of  your  voyage,"  answered  Captain  Delano,  with 
almost  equal  astonishment  at  this  eating  of  his 
own  words,  even  as  he  ever  seemed  eating  his 


BENITO     CERENO.  195 

own  heart,  on  the  part  of  the  Spaniard.  "  You 
yourself,  Don  Benito,  spoke  of  Cape  Horn,"  he 
emphatically  repeated. 

The  Spaniard  turned,  in  a  sort  of  stooping 
posture,  pausing  an  instant,  as  one  about  to 
make  a  plunging  exchange  of  elements,  as  from 
air  to  water. 

At  this  moment  a  messenger-boy,  a  white, 
hurried  by,  in  the  regular  performance  of  his 
function  carrying  the  last  expired  half  hour  for 
ward  to  the  forecastle,  from  the  cabin  time-piece, 
to  have  it  struck  at  the  ship's  large  bell. 

"  Master,"  said  the  servant,  discontinuing  his 
work  on  the  coat  sleeve,  and  addressing  the 
rapt  Spaniard  with  a  sort  of  timid  apprehensive- 
ness,  as  one  charged  with  a  duty,  the  discharge 
of  which,  it  was  foreseen,  would  prove  irksome 
to  the  very  person  who  had  imposed  it,  and  for 
whose  benefit  it  was  intended,  "  master  told  me 
never  mind  where  he  was,  or  how  engaged,  al 
ways  to  remind  him.  to  a  minute,  when  shaving- 
time  comes.  Miguel  has  gone  to  strike  the  half- 
hour  afternoon.  It  is  now,  master.  Will  master 
go  into  the  cuddy?" 

"Ah — yes,"  answered  the  Spaniard,  starting, 


196  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

as  from  dreams  into  realities  ;  then  turning  upon 
Captain  Delano,  he  said  that  ere  long  he  would 
resume  the  conversation. 

"  Then  if  master  means  to  talk  more  to  Don 
Amasa,"  said  the  servant,  "  why  not  let  Don 
Amasa  sit  by  master  in  the  cuddy,  and  master 
can  talk,  and  Don  Amasa  can  listen,  while  Babo 
here  lathers  and  strops." 

"Yes,"  said  Captain  Delano,  not  unpleased 
with  this  sociable  plan,  "  yes,  Don  Benito,  un 
less  you  had  rather  not,  I  will  go  with  you." 

"  Be  it  so,  Senor." 

As  the  three  passed  aft,  the  American  could 
not  but  think  it  another  strange  instance  of  his 
host's  capriciousness,  this  being  shaved  with 
such  uncommon  punctuality  in  the  middle  of 
the  day.  But  he  deemed  it  more  than  likely 
that  the  servant's  anxious  fidelity  had  something 
to  do  with  the  matter ;  inasmuch  as  the  timely 
interruption  served  to  rally  his  master  from  the 
mood  which  had  evidently  been  coming,  upon 
him. 

The  place  called  the  cuddy  was  a  light  deck- 
cabin  formed  by  the  poop,  a  sort  of  attic  to  the 
large  cabin  below.  Part  of  it  had  formerly 


BENITO     CERE NO.  197 

been  the  quarters  of  the  officers ;  but  since  their 
usath  all  the  partitionings  had  been  thrown 
down,  a-nd  the  whole  interior  converted  into  one 
spacious  and  airy  marine  hall ;  for  absence  of 
fine  furniture  and  picturesque  disarray  of  odd 
appurtenances,  somewhat  answering  to  the 
wide,  cluttered  hall  of  some  eccentric  bachelor- 
squire  in  the  country,  who  hangs  his  shooting- 
jacket  and  tobacco-pouch  on  deer  antlers,  and 
keeps  his  fishing-rod,  tongs,  and  walking-stick 
in  the  same  corner. 

The  similitude  was  heightened,  if  not  origi 
nally  suggested,  by  glimpses  of  the  surrounding 
sea;  since,  in  one  aspect,  the  country  and  the 
ocean  seem  cousins-germ  an. 

The  floor  of  the  cuddy  was  matted.  Over 
head,  four  or  five  old  muskets  were  stuck  into 
horizontal  holes  along  the  beams.  On  one  side 
was  a  claw-footed  old  table  lashed  to  the  deck ; 
a  thumbed  missal  on  it,  and  over  it  a  small, 
meagre  crucifix  attached  to  the  bulk-head.  Ur- 
der  the  table  lay  a  dented  cutlass  or  two,  with 
a  hacked  harpoon,  among  some  melancholy 
old  rigging,  like  a  heap  of  poor  friars'  girdles. 
There  were  also  two  long,  sharp-ribbed  settees 


198  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

of  Malacca  cane,  black  with  age,  and  uncom 
fortable  to  look  at  as  inquisitors'  racks,  with  a 
large,  misshapen  arm-chair,  which,  furnished 
with  a  rude  barber's  crotch  at  the  back,  work 
ing  with  a  screw,  seemed  some  grotesque  en 
gine  of  torment.  A  flag  locker  was  in  one  corner, 
open,  exposing  various  colored  bunting,  some 
rolled  up,  others  half  unrolled,  still  others  tum 
bled.  Opposite  was  a  cumbrous  washstand,  of 
black  mahogany,  all  of  one  block,  with  a  pe 
destal,  like  a  font,  and  over  it  a  railed  shelf, 
containing  combs,  brushes,  and  other  imple 
ments  of  the  toilet.  A  torn  hammock  of  stain 
ed  grass  swung  near ;  the  sheets  tossed,  and 
the  pillow  wrinkled  up  like  a  brow,  as  if  who 
ever  slept  here  slept  but  illy,  with  alternate 
visitations  of  sad  thoughts  and  bad  dreams. 

The  further  extremity  of  the  cuddy,  over 
hanging  the  ship's  stern,  was  pierced  with  three 
openings,  windows  or  port-holes,  according  as 
men  or  cannon  might  peer,  socially  or  unsoci- 
ally,  out  of  them.  At  present  neither  men  nor 
cannon  were  seen,  though  huge  ring-bolts  and 
other  rusty  iron  fixtures  of  the  wood-work  hint 
ed  of  twenty-four-pounders. 


BENITO    CERENO.  199 

Glancing  towards  the  hammock  as  he  entered, 
Captain  Delano  said,  "  You  sleep  here,  Don 
Benito?" 

"  Yes,  Senor,  since  we  got  into  mild  weather." 

"'This  seems  a  sort  of  dormitory,  sitting- 
room,  sail-loft,  chapel,  armory,  and  private 
closet  all  together,  Don  Benito,"  added  Captain 
Delano,  looking  round. 

"Yes,  Senor;  events  have  not  been  favora 
ble  .to  much  order  in  my  arrangements*" 

Here  the  servant,  napkin  on  arm,  made  a  mo 
tion  as  if  waiting  his  master's  good  pleasure. 
Don  Benito  signified  his  readiness,  when,  seat 
ing  him  in  the  Malacca  arm-chair,  and  for  the 
guest's  convenience  draw-ing  opposite  one  of 
the  settees,  the  servant  commenced  operations 
by  throwing  back  his  master's  collar  and  loosen 
ing  his  cravat. 

There  is  something  in  the  negro  which,  in  a 
peculiar  way,  fits  him  for  avocations  about 
one's  person.  Most  negroes  are  natural  valets 
and  hair-dressers;  taking  to  the  comb  and 
brush  congenially  as  to  the  castinets,  and  flour 
ishing  them  apparently  with  almost  equal  sat 
isfaction.  There  is,  too,  a  smooth  tact  about 


200  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

them  in  this  employment,  with  a  marvelous, 
noiseless,  gliding  briskness,  not  ungraceful  in 
its  way,  singularly  pleasing  to  behold,  and  still 
more  so  to  be  the  manipulated  subject  of. 
And  above  all  is  the  great  gift  of  good-humor. 
Not  the  mere  grin  or  laugh  is  here  meant. 
Those  were  unsuitable.  But  a  certain  easy 
cheerfulness,  harmonious  in  every  glance  and 
gesture ;  as  though  God  had  set  the  whole 
negro  to  some  pleasant  tune. 

When  to  this  is  added  the  docility  arising 
from  the  unaspiring  contentment  of  a  limited 
mind,  and  that  susceptibility  of  blind  attach 
ment  sometimes  inhering  in  indisputable  infe 
riors,  one  readily  perceives  why  those  hypo 
chondriacs,  Johnson  and  Byron — it  may  be, 
something  like  the  hypochondriac  Benito  Ce- 
reno — took  to  their  hearts,  almost  to  the  exclu 
sion  of  the  entire  white  race,  their  serving 
men,  the  negroes,  Barber  and  Fletcher.  But 
if  there  be  that  in  the  negro  which  exempts 
him  from  the  inflicted  sourness  of  the  morbid 
or  cynical  mind,  how,  in  his  most  prepossessing 
aspects,  must  he  appear  to  a  benevolent  one? 
When  at  ease  with  respect  to  exterior  things, 


BENITO     CERENO.  201 

Captain  Delano's  nature  was  not  only  benign, 
but  familiarly  and  humorously  so.  At  home, 
he  had  often  taken  rare  satisfaction  in  sitting  in 
his  door,  watching  some  free  man  of  color  at 
his  work  or  play.  If  on  a  voyage  he  chanced 
to  have  a  black  sailor,  invariably  he  was  on 
chatty  and  half-gamesome  terms  with  him.  In 
fact,  like  most  men  of  a  good,  blithe  heart, 
Captain  Delano  took  to  negroes,  not  philan- 
thropically,  but  genially,  just  as  other  men  to 
Newfoundland  dogs. 

Hitherto,  the  circumstances  in  which  he 
found  the  San  Dominick  had  repressed  the 
tendency.  But  in  the  cuddy,  relieved  from 
his  former  uneasiness,  and,  for  various  reasons, 
more  sociably  inclined  than  at  any  previous 
period  of  the  day,  and  seeing  the  colored  serv 
ant,  napkin  on  arm,  so  debonair  about  his 
master,  in  a  business  so  familiar  as  that  of 
shaving,  too,  all  his  old  weakness  for  negroes 
returned. 

Among  other  things,  he  was  amused  with 
an  odd  instance  of  the  African  love  of  bright 
colors  and  fine  shows,  in  the  black's  r  formally 

taking  from  the  flag-locker  a  greaf    piece  of 
9* 


202  THE     PIAZZA      TALES. 

bunting  of  all  hues,  and  lavishly  tucking  it 
under  his  master's  chin  for  an  apron. 

The  tnode  of  shaving  among  the  Spaniards  is 
a  little  different  from  what  it  is  with  other 
nations.  They  have  a  basin,  specifically  called 
a  barber's  basin,  which  on  one  side  is  scooped 
out,  so  as  accurately  to  receive  the  chin,  against 
which  it  is  closely  held  in  lathering ;  which  is 
done,  not  with  a  brush,  but  with  soap  dipped 
in  the  water  of  the  basin  and  rubbed  on  the 
face. 

In  the  present  instance  salt-water  was  used 
for  lack  of  better ;  and  the  parts  lathered  were 
only  the  upper  lip,  and  low  down  under  the 
throat,  all  the  rest  being  cultivated  beard. 

The  preliminaries  being  somewhat  novel  to 
Captain  Delano,  he  sat  curiously  eying  them, 
so  that  no  conversation  took  place,  nor,  for  the 
present,  did  Don  Benito  appear  disposed  to 
renew  any. 

Setting  down  his  basin,  the  negro  searched 
among  the  razors,  as  for  the  sharpest,  and  hav 
ing  found  it,  gave  it  an  additional  edge  by 
expertly  strapping  it  on  the  firm,  smooth,  oily 
skin  of  his  open  palm ;  he  then  made  a  gesture 


BENITO     CERE  NO.  203 

as  if  to  begin,  but  midway  stood  suspended  for 
an  instant,  one  hand  elevating  the  razor,  the 
other  professionally  dabbling  among  the  bub 
bling  suds  on  the  Spaniard's  lank  neck.  Not 
unaffected  by  the  close  sight  of  the  gleaming 
steel,  Don  Benito  nervously  shuddered;  his 
usual  ghastliness  was  heightened  by  the  lather, 
which  lather,  again,  was  intensified  in  its  hue 
by  the  contrasting  sootiness  of  the  negro's  body. 
Altogether  the  scene  was  somewhat  peculiar, 
at  least  to  Captain  Delano,  nor,  as  he  saw  the 
two  thus  postured,  could  he  resist  the  vagary, 
that  in  the  black  he  saw  a  headsman,  and  in 
the  white  a  man  at  the  block.  But  this  was 
one  o£  those  antic  conceits,  appearing  and  van 
ishing  in  a  breath,  from  which,  perhaps,  the 
best  regulated  mind  is  not  always  free. 

Meantime  the  agitation  of  the  Spaniard  had 
a  little  loosened  the  bunting  from  around  him, 
so  that  one  broad  fold  swept  curtain-like  over 
the  chair-arm  to  the  floor,  revealing,  amid  a 
profusion  of  armorial  bars  and  ground-colors — 
black,  blue,  and  yellow — a  closed  castle  in  a 
blood-red  field  diagonal  with  a  lion  rampant  in 
a,  white. 


204  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

"  The  castle  and  the  lion,"  exclaimed  Cap 
tain  Delano-r-"  why,  Don  Benito,  this  is  the 
flag  of  Spain  you  use  here.  It's  well  it's  only 
I,  and  not  the  King,  that  sees  this,"  he  added, 
with  a  smile,  "but" — turning  towards  the 
black — "  it's  all  one,  I  suppose,  so  the  colons 
be  gay;"  which  playful  remark  did  not  fail 
somewhat  to  tickle  the  negro. 

"Now,  master,"  he  said,  readjusting  the 
flag,  and  pressing  the  head  gently  further  back 
into  the  crotch  of  the  chair;  "now,  master," 
and  the  steel  glanced  nigh  the  throat. 

Again  Don  Benito  faintly  shuddered. 

"  You  must  not  shake  so,  master.  See,  Don 
Amasa,  master  always  shakes  when  I -shave 
him.  And  yet  master  knows  I  never  yet  have 
drawn  blood,  though  it's  true,  if  master  will 
shake  so,  I  may  some  of  these  times.  Now 
master,"  he  continued.  "And  now,  Don  Ama 
sa,  please  go  on  with  your  talk  about  the  gale, 
and  all  that ;  master  can  hear,  and,  between 
times,  master  can  answer." 

"Ah  yes,  these  gales,"  said  Captain  Delano; 
"  but  the  more  I  think  of  your  voyage,  Don 
Jrtenito,  the  more  I  wonder,  not  at  the  gales, 


BENITO     CEEENO.  205 

terrible  as  they  must  have  been,  but  at  the 
disastrous  interval  following  them.  For  here, 
by  your  account,  have  you  been  these  two 
months  and  more  getting  from  Cape  Horn  to 
St.  Maria,  a  distance  which  I  myself,  with  a 
good  wind,  have  sailed  in  a  few  days.  True, 
you  had  calms,  and  long  ones,  but  to  be  be 
calmed  for  two  months,  that  is,  at  least,  un 
usual.  Why,  Don  Benito,  had  almost  any  other 
gentleman  told  me  such  a  story,  I  should  have 
been  half  disposed  to  a  little  incredulity." 

Here  an  involuntary  expression  came  over 
the  Spaniard,  similar  to  that  just  before  on  the 
deck,  and  whether  it  was  the  start  he  gave,  or 
a  sudden  gawky  roll  of  the  hull  in  the  calm, 
or  a  momentary  unsteadiness  of  the  servant's 
hand,  however  it  was,  just  then  the  razor  drew 
blood,  spots  of  which  stained  the  creamy  lather 
under  the  throat:  immediately  the  black  barber 
drew  back  his  steel,  and,  remaining  in  his  pro 
fessional  attitude,  back  to  Captain  Delano,  and 
face  to  Don  Benito,  held  up  the  trickling  razor, 
saying,  with  a  sort  of  half  humorous  sorrow, 
"See,  master — you  shook  so — here's  Babo's 
first  blood." 


206  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

No  sword  drawn  before  James  the  First  of 
England,  no  assassination  in  that  timid  King's 
presence,  could  have  produced  a  more  terri 
fied  aspect  than  was  now  presented  by  Don 
Benito. 

Poor  fellow,  thought  Captain  Delano,  so 
nervous  he  can't  even  bear  the  sight  of  bar 
ber's  blood ;  and  this  unstrung,  sick  man,  is 
it  credible  that  I  should  have  imagined  he 
meant  to  spill  all  my  blood,  who  can't  endure 
the  sight  of  one  little  drop  of  his  own  ?  Surely, 
Amasa  Delano,  you  have  been  beside  yourself 
this  day.  Tell  it  not  when  you  get  home, 
sappy  Amasa.  Well,  wTell,  he  looks  like  a 
murderer,  doesn't  he?  More  like  as  if  him 
self  were  to  be  done  for.  Well,  well,  this 
day's  experience  shall  be  a  good  lesson. 

Meantime,  while  these  things  were  running 
through  the  honest  seaman's  mind,  the  servant 
had  taken  the  napkin  from  his  arm,  and  to  Don 
Benito  had  said  —  "But  answer  Don  Amasa, 
please,  master,  while  I  wipe  this  ugly  stuff 
off  the  razor,  and  strop  it  again." 

As  he  said  the  words,  his  face  was  turned 
half  round,  so  as  to  be  alike  visible  to  the 


BENITO     CEKENO.  207 

Spaniard  and  the  American,  and  seemed,  by 
its  expression,  to  hint,  that  he  was  desirous,  by 
getting  his  master  to  go  on  with  the  conversa 
tion,  considerately  to  withdraw  his  attention 
from  the  recent  annoying  accident.  As  if  glad 
to  snatch  the  offered  relief,  Don  Benito  re 
sumed,  rehearsing  to  Captain  Delano,  that  not 
only  were  the  calms  of  unusual  duration,  but 
the  ship  had  fallen  in  with  obstinate  currents ; 
and  other  things  he  added,  some  of  which  were 
but  repetitions  of  former  statements,  to  explain 
how  it  came  to  pass  that  the  passage  from 
Cape  Horn  to  St.  Maria  had  been  so  exceed 
ingly  long;  now  and  then  mingling  with  his 
words,  incidental  praises,  less  qualified  than 
before,  to  the  blacks,  for  their  general  good 
conduct.  These  particulars  were  not  given 
consecutively,  the  servant,  at  convenient  times, 
using  his  razor,  and  so,  between  the  intervals 
of  shaving,  the  story  and  panegyric  went  on 
with  more  than  usual  huskiness. 

To  Captain  Delano's  imagination,  now  again 
not  wholly  aj:  rest,  there  was  something  so 
hollow  in  the  Spaniard's  manner,  with  ap 
parently  some  reciprocal  hollovvness  in  the 


208  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

servant's  dusky  comment  of  silence,  that  the 
idea  flashed  across  him,  that  possibly  master 
and  man,  for  some  unknown  purpose,  were 
acting  out,  both  in  w^ord  and  deed,  nay,  to  the 
very  tremor  of  Don  Benito's  limbs,  some  jug 
gling  play  before  him.  Neither  did  the  suspi 
cion  of  collusion  lack  apparent  support,  from 
the  fact  of  those  whispered  conferences  before 
mentioned.  But  then,  what  could  be  the  ob 
ject  of  enacting  this  play  of  the  barber  before 
him  ?  At  last,  regarding  the  notion  as  a 
whimsy,  insensibly  suggested,  perhaps,  by  the 
theatrical  aspect  of  Don  Benito  in  his  harle 
quin  ensign,  Captain  Delano  speedily  banished 
it. 

The  shaving  over,  the  servant  bestirred  him 
self  with  a  small  bottle  of  scented  waters, 
pouring  a  few  drops  on  the  head,  and  then 
diligently  rubbing;  the  vehemence  of  the  exer 
cise  causing  the  muscles  of  his  face  to  twitch 

.1  i 

rather  strangely.  > 

His  next  operation  was  with  comb,  scissors, 
and  brush ;  going  round  and  round,  smoothing 
a  curl  here,  clipping  an  unruly  whisker-hair 
there,  giving  a  graceful  sweep  to  the  temple- 


BENITO     CERENO.  209 

lock,  with  other  impromptu  touches  evincing 
the  hand  of  a  master ;  while,  like  any  resigned 
gentleman  in  barber's  hands,  Don  Benito  bore 
all,  much  less  uneasily,  at  least,  than  he  had 
done  the  razoring  ;  indeed,  he  sat  so  pale  and 
rigid  now,  that  the  negro  seemed  a  Nubian 
sculptor  finishing  off  a  white  statue-head. 

All  being  over  at  last,  the  standard  of  Spain 
removed,  tumbled  up,  and  tossed  back  into  the 
flag-locker,  the  negro's  warm  breath  blowing 
away  any  stray  hair  which  might  have  lodged 
down  his  master's  neck ;  collar  and  cravat 
readjusted  ;  a  speck  of  lint  whisked  off  the 
velvet  lapel ;  all  this  being  done  ;  backing  off 
a  little  space,  and  pausing  with  an  expres 
sion  of  subdued  self-complacency,  the  serv 
ant  for  a  moment  surveyed  his  master,  as,  in 
toilet  at  least,  the  creature  of  his  own  taste 
ful  hands. 

Captain  Delano  playfully  complimented  him 
upon  his  achievement ;  at  the  same  time  con 
gratulating  Don  Benito. 

But  neither  sweet  waters,  nor  shampooing, 
nor  fidelity,  nor  sociality,  delighted  the  Span 
iard.  Seeing  him  relapsing  into  forbidding 


210  THE    PIAZZA      TALES. 

gloom,  and  still  remaining  seated,  Captain  De 
lano,  thinking  that  his  presence  was  undesired 
just  then,  withdrew,  on  pretense  of  seeing 
whether,  as  he  had  prophesied,  any  signs  of  a 
breeze  were  visible. 

Walking  forward  to  the  main-mast,  he  stood 
awhile  thinking  over  the  scene,  and  not  with 
out  some  undefined  misgivings,  when  he  heard 
a  noise  near  the  cuddy,  and  turning,  saw  the 
negro,  his  hand  to  his  cheek.  Advancing, 
Captain  Delano  perceived  that  the  cheek  was 
bleeding.  He  was  about  to  ask  the  cause, 
when  the  negro's  wailing  soliloquy  enlightened 
him. 

"  Ah,  when  will  master  get  better  from  his 
sickness;  only  the  sour  heart  that  sour  sickness 
breeds  made  him  serve  Babo  so ;  cutting  Babo 
with  the  razor,  because,  only  by  accident, 
Babo  had  given  master  one  little  scratch ;  and 
for  the  first  time  in  so  matiy  a  day,  too.  Ah, 
ah,  ah,"  holding  his  hand  to  his  face. 

Is  it  possible,  thought  Captain  Delano  ;  was 
it  to  wreak  in  private  his  Spanish  spite  against 
this  poor  friend  of  his,  that  Don  Benito,  by  his 
sullen  manner,  impelled  me  to  withdraw  ?  Ah, 


BENITO    CERENO.  211 

this  slavery  breeds  ugly  passions  in  man. — 
Poor  fellow ! 

He  was  about  to  speak  in  sympathy  to  the 
negro,  but  with  a  timid  reluctance  he  now  re- 
entered  the  cuddy. 

Presently  master  and  man  came  forth ;  Don 
Benito  leaning  on  his  servant  as  if  nothing  had 
happened. 

But  a  sort  of  love-quarrel,  after  all,  thought 
Captain  Delano. 

He  accosted  Don  Benito,  and  they  slowly 
walked  together.  They  had  gone  but  a  few 
paces,  when  the  steward — a  tall,  rajah-looking 
mulatto,  orientally  set  off  with  a  pagoda  tur 
ban  formed  by  three  or  four  Madras  handker 
chiefs  wound  about  his  head,  tier  on  tier — 
approaching  with  a  saalam,  announced  lunch 
in  the  cabin. 

On  their  way  thither,  the  two  captains  were 
preceded  by  the  mulatto,  wrho,  turning  round 
as  he  advanced,  with  continual  smiles  and  bows, 
ushered  them  on,  a  display  of  elegance  which 
quite  completed  the  insignificance  of  the  small 
bare-headed  Babo,  who,  as  if  not  unconscious 
of  inferiority,  eyed  askance  the  graceful  stew- 


212  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

ard.  But  in  part,  Captain  Delano  imputed 
his  jealous  watchfulness  to  that  peculiar  feeling 
which  the  full-blooded  African  entertains  for 
the  adulterated  one.  As  for  the  steward,  his 
manner,  if  not  bespeaking  much  dignity  of  self- 
respect,  yet  evidenced  his  extreme  desire  to 
please;  which  is  doubly  meritorious,  as  at  once 
Christian  and  Chesterfieldian. 

Captain  Delano  observed  with  interest  that 
while  the  complexion  of  the  mulatto  was  hy 
brid,  his  physiognomy  was  European — classic 
ally  so. 

"  Don  Benito,"  whispered  he,  ^  I  am  glad  to 
see  this  usher-of-the-golden-rod  of  yours  ;  the 
sight  refutes  an  ugly  remark  once  made  to  me 
by  a  Barbadoes  planter ;  that  when  a  mulatto 
has  a  regular  European  face,  look  out  for  him  ; 
he  is  a  devil.  But  see,  your  steward  here  has 
features  more  regular  than  King  George's  of 
England;  and  yet  there  lie  nods,  and  bows, 
and  smiles ;  a  king,  indeed — the  king  of  kind 
hearts  and  polite  fellows.  What  a  pleasant 
voice  he  has,  too? 

"  He  has,  Senor." 

"  But  tell  me,  has  he  not,  so  far  as  you  have 


BENITOCERENO.  213 

known  him,  always  proved  a  good,  worthy 
fellow?"  said  Captain  Delano,  pausing,  while 
with  a  final  genuflexion  the  steward  disap 
peared  into  the  cabin ;  "  come,  for  the  reason 
just  mentioned,  I  am  curious  to  know." 

''Francesco  is  a  good  man,"  a  sort  of  slug 
gishly  responded  Don  Benito,  like  a  phlegmatic 
appreciates,  who  would  neither  find  fault  nor 
flatter. 

"  Ah,  I  thought  so.  For  it  were  strange, 
indeed,,  and  not  very  creditable  to  us  white- 
skins,  if  a  little  of  our  blood  mixed  with  the 
African's,  should,  far  from  improving  the 
latter's  quality,  -have  the  sad  effect  of  pouring 
vitriolic  acid  into  black  broth ;  improving 
the  hue,  perhaps,  but  not  the  wholesome- 
ness." 

"  Doubtless,  doubtless,  Senor,  but" — glan 
cing  at  Babo — "  not  to  speak  of  negroes,  your 
planter's  remark  I  have  heard  applied  to  the 
Spanish  and  Indian  intermixtures  in  our  pro 
vinces.  But  I  know  nothing  about  the  matter," 
he  listlessly  added. 

And  here  they  entered  the  cabin. 

The  lunch  was  a  frugal  one.     Some  of  Cap- 


214  THE      PIAZZA      TALES. 

tain  Delano's  fresh  fish  and  pumpkins,  biscuit 
and  salt  beef,  the  reserved  bottle  of  cider,  and 
the  San  Dominick's  last  bottle  of  Canary. 

As  they  entered,  Francesco,  with  two  or 
three  colored  aids,  was  hovering  over  the  table 
giving  the  last  adjustments.  Upon  perceiving 
their  master  they  withdrew,  Francesco  making 
a  smiling  conge,  and  the  Spaniard,  without 
condescending  to  notice  it,  fastidiously  remark 
ing  to  his  companion  that  he  relished  not  super 
fluous  attendance. 

Without  companions,  host  and  guest  sat 
down,  like  a  childless  married  couple,  at  op 
posite  ends  of  the  table,  Don  Benito  waving 
Captain  Delano  to  his  place,  and,  weak  as  he 
was,  insisting  upon  that  gentleman  being  seated 
before  himself. 

The  negro  placed  a  rug  under  Don  Benito's 
feet,  and  a  cushion  behind  his  back,  and  then 
stood  behind,  not  his  master's  chair,  but  Cap 
tain  Delano's.  At  first,  this  a  little  surprised 
the  latter.  But  it  was  soon  evident  that,  in 
taking  his  position,  the  black  was  still  true  to 
his  master ;  since  by  facing  him  he  could  the 
more  readily  anticipate  his  slightest  want. 


BENITO     CERENO.  215 

"  This  is  an  uncommonly  intelligent  fellow 
of  yours,  Don  Benito,"  whispered  Captain 
Delano  across  the  table. 

"  You  say  true,  Senor." 

During  the  repast,  the  guest  ar;.im  reverted 
to  parts  of  Don  Benito's  story,  beting  further 
particulars  here  and  there.  He  inquired  how 
it  was  that  the  scurvy  and  fever  should  have 
committed  such  wholesale  havoc  upon  the 
whites,  while  destroying  less  than  half  of  the 
blacks.  As  if  this  question  reproduced  the 
whole  scene  of  plague  before  the  Spaniard's 
eyes,  miserably  reminding  him  of  his  solitude 
in  a  cabin  where  before  he  had  had  so  many 
friends  and  officers  round  him,  his  hand  shook, 
his  face  became  hueless,  broken  words  escaped ; 
but  directly  the  sane  memory  of  the  past  seem 
ed  replaced  by  insane  terrors  of  the  present. 
With  starting  eyes  he  stared  before  him  at 
vacancy.  For  nothing  was  to  be  seen  but  the 
hand  of  his  servant  pushing  the  Canary  over 
towards  him.  At  length  a  few  sips  served 
partially  to  restore  him.  He  made  random  re 
ference  to  the  different  constitution  of  races, 
enabling  one  to  offer  more  resistance  to  certain 


216  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

maladies  than  another.  The  thought  was  new 
to  his  companion. 

Presently  Captain  Delano,  intending  to  say 
something  to  his  host  concerning  the  pecuniary 
part  of  the  business  he  had  undertaken  for  him, 
especially — since  he  was  strictly  accountable 
to  his  owners — with  reference  to  the  new  suit 
of  sails,  and  other  things  of  that  sott ;  and 
naturally  preferring  to  conduct  such  affairs  in 
private,  was  desirous  that  the  servant  should 
withdraw ;  imagining  that  Don  Benito  for  a 
few  minutes  could  dispense  with  his  attendance. 
He,  however,  waited  awhile  ;  thinking  that,  as 
the  conversation  proceeded,  Don  Benito,  with 
out  being  prompted,  would  perceive  the  pro 
priety  of  the  step. 

But  it  was  otherwise.  At  last  catching  his 
host's  eye,  Captain  Delano,  with  a  slight  back 
ward  gesture  of  his  thumb,  whispered,  "  Don 
Benito,  pardon  me,  but  there  is  an  interference 
with  the  full  expression  of  what  I  have  to  say 
to  you." 

Upon  this  the  Spaniard  changed  countenance ; 
which  was  imputed  to  his  resenting  the  hint, 
as  in  some  way  a  reflection  upon  his  servant. 


B  E  N I TO     C  E  R  E  N  O .  217 

After  a  moment's  pause,  he  assured  his  guest 
that  the  black's  remaining  with  them  could  be 
of  no  disservice  ;  because  since  losing  his  officers 
he  had  made  Babo  (whose  original  office,  it  now 
appeared,  had  been  captain  of  the  slaves)  not 
only  his  constant  attendant  and  companion,  but 
in  all  things  his  confidant. 

After  this,  nothing  more  could  be  said ; 
though,  indeed,  Captain  Delano  could  hardly 
avoid  some  little  tinge  of  irritation  upon  being 
left  ungratified  in  so  inconsiderable  a  wish,  by 
one,  too,  for  whom  he  intended  such  solid  ser 
vices.  But  it  is  only  his  querulousness,  thought 
he ;  and  so  filling  his  glass  he  proceeded  to 
business. 

The  price  of  the  sails  and  other  matters  was 
fixed  upon.  But  while  this  was  being  done, 
the  American  observed  that,  though  his  original 
offer  of  assistance  had  been  hailed  with  hectic 
animation,  yet  now  when  it  was  reduced  to  a 
business  transaction,  indifference  and  apathy 
were  betrayed.  Don  Benito,  in  fact,  appeared 
to  submit  to  hearing  the  details  more  out  of 
regard  to  common  propriety,  than  from  any 
10 


218  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

impression  that  weighty  benefit  to  himself  and 
his  voyage  was  involved. 

Soon,  his  manner  became  still  more  reserved. 
The  effort  was  vain  to  seek  to  draw  him  into 
social  talk.  Gnawed  by  his  splenetic  mood,  he 
sat  twitching  his  beard,  while  to  little  purpose 
the  hand  of  his  servant,  mute  as  that  on  the 
wall,  slowly  pushed  over  the  Canary. 

Lunch  being  over,  they  sat  down  on  the 
cushioned  transom  ;  the  servant  placing  a  pil 
low  behind  his  master.  The  long  continu 
ance  of  the  calm  had  now  affected  the  atmos 
phere.  Don  Benito  sighed  heavily,  as  if  for 
breath. 

"  Why  not  adjourn  to  the  cuddy,"  said  Cap 
tain  Delano  ;  "  there  is  more  air  there."  But 
the  host  sat  silent  and  motionless. 

Meantime  his  servant  knelt  before  him,  with 
a  large  fan  of  feathers.  And  Francesco  coming 
in  on  tiptoes,  handed  the  negro  a  little  cup  of 
aromatic  waters,  with  which  at  intervals  he 
chafed  his  master's  brow ;  smoothing  the  hair 
along  the  temples  as  a  nurse  does  a  child's.  He 
spoke  no  word.  He  only  rested  his  eye  on  his 
master's,  as  if,  amid  all  Don  Benito's  distress, 


BENITOCEBENO.  219 

a  little  to  refresh  his  spirit  by  the  silent  sight 
of  fidelity. 

Presently  the  ship's  bell  sounded  two  o'clock ; 
and  through  the  cabin  windows  a  slight  rippling 
of  the  sea  was  discerned ;  and  from  the  desired 
direction. 

"  There,"  exclaimed  Captain  Delano,  "  I 
told  you  so,  Don  Benito,  look  !" 

He  had  risen  to  his  feet,  speaking  in  a  very  ani 
mated  tone,  with  a  view  the  more  to  rouse  his 
companion.  But  though  the  crimson  curtain 
of  the  stern-window  near  him  that  moment 
fluttered  against  his  pale  cheek,  Don  Benito 
seemed  to  have  even  less  welcome  for  the  breeze 
than  the  calm. 

Poor  fellow,  thought  Captain  Delano,  bitter 
experience  has  taught  him  that  one  ripple*  does 
not  make  a  wind,  any  more  than  one  swallow 
a  summer.  But  he  is  mistaken  for  once.  I 
will  get  his  ship  in  for  him,  and  prove  it. 

Briefly  alluding  to  his  weak  condition,  he 
urged  his  host  to  remain  quietly  where  he  was, 
since  he  (Captain  Delano)  would  with  pleasure 
take  upon  himself  the  responsibility  of  making 
the  best  use  of  the  wind. 


220  THE    PIAZZA    TALES. 

Upon  gaining  the  deck,  Captain  Delano  start 
ed  at  the  unexpected  figure  of  Atufal,  monu 
mentally  fixed  at  the  threshold,  like  one  of 
those  sculptured  porters  of  black  marble  guard 
ing  the  porches  of  Egyptian  tombs. 

But  this  time  the  start  was,  perhaps,  purely 
physical.  Atufal's  presence,  singularly  attest 
ing  docility  even  in  sullenness,  was  contrasted 
with  that  of  the  hatchet-polishers,  who  in  pa 
tience  evinced  their  industry  ;  while  both  spec 
tacles  showed,  that  lax  as  Don  Benito's  general 
authority  might  be,  still,  whenever  he  chose  to 
exert  it,  no  man  so  savage  or  colossal  but  must, 
more  or  less,  bow. 

Snatching  a  trumpet  which  hung  from  the 
bulwarks,  with  a  free  step  Captain  Delano  ad 
vanced  to  the  forward  edge  of  the  poop,  issuing 
his  orders  in  his  best  Spanish.  The  few  sail 
ors  and  many  negroes,  all  equally  pleased,  obe 
diently  set  about  heading  the  ship  towards  the 
harbor. 

While  giving  some  directions  about  setting 
a  lower  stu'n'-sail,  suddenly  Captain  Delano 
heard  a  voice  faithfully  repeating  his  orders. 
Turning,  he  saw  Babo,  now  for  the  time  acting, 


BENITO    CERENO.  221 

under  the  pilot,  his  original  part  of  captain  of 
the  slaves.  This  assistance  proved  valuable. 
Tattered  sails  and  warped  yards  were  soon 
brought  into  some  trim.  And  no  brace  or  hal 
yard  was  pulled  but  to  the  blithe  songs  of  the 
inspirited  negroes. 

Good  fellows,  thought  Captain  Delano,  a  lit 
tle  training  would  make  fine  sailors  of  them. 
Why  see,  the  very  women  pull  and  sing  too. 
These  must  be  some  of  those  Ashantee  negresses 
that  make  such  capital  soldiers,  I've  heard. 
But  who's  at  the  helm.  I  must  have  a  good 
hand  there. 

He  went  to  see'. 

The  San  Dominick  steered  with  a  cumbrous 
tiller,  with  large  horizontal  pullies  attached.  At 
each  pully-end  stood  a  subordinate  black,  and 
between  them,  at  the  tiller-head,  there  sponsi- 
ble  post,  a  Spanish  seaman,  whose  countenance 
evinced  his  due  share  in  the  general  hopefulness 
and  confidence  at  the  coming  of  the  breeze. 

He  proved  the  same  man  who  had  behaved 
with  so  shame-faced  an  air  on  the  windlass. 

"  Ah, — it  is  you,  my  man,"  exclaimed  Captain 
Delano — "  well,  no  more  sheep's-eyes  now ; — 


222  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

look  straight  forward  and  keep  the  ship  so. 
Good  hand,  I  trust  ?  And  want  to  get  into  the 
harbor,  don't  you  ?" 

The  man  assented  with  an  inward  chuckle, 
grasping  the  tiller-head  firmly.  Upon  this, 
unperceived  by  the  American,  the  two  blacks 
eyed  the  sailor  intently. 

Finding  all  right  at  the  helm,  the  pilot  went 
forward  to  the  forecastle,  to  see  how  matters 
stood  there. 

The  ship  now  had  way  enough  to  breast  the 
current.  With  the  approach  of  evening,  the 
breeze  would  be  sure  to  freshen. 

Having  done  all  that  was  needed  for  the  pres 
ent,  Captain  Delano,  giving  his  last  orders  to 
the  sailors,  turned  aft  to  report  affairs  to  Don 
Benito  in  the  cabin  ;  perhaps  additionally  in 
cited  to  rejoin  him  by  the  hope  of  snatching  a 
moment's  private  chat  while  the  servant  was 
engaged  upon  deck. 

From  opposite  sides,  there  were,  beneath  the 
poop,  two  approaches  to  the  cabin  ;  one  fur 
ther  forward  than  the  other,  and  consequently 
communicating  with  a  longer  passage.  Mark 
ing  the  servant  still  above,  Captain  Delano, 


BENITO     CERE  NO.  223 

taking  the  nighest  entrance  —  the  one  last 
named,  and  at  whose  porch  Atufal  still  stood — 
harried  on  his  way,  till,  arrived  at  the  cabin 
threshold,  he  paused  an  instant,  a  little  to  re 
cover  from  his  eagerness.  Then,  with  the 
words  of  his  intended  business  upon  his  lips,  he 
entered.  As  he  advanced  toward  the  seated 
Spaniard,  he  heard  another  footstep,  keeping 
time  with  his.  From  the  opposite  door,  a  sal 
ver  in  hand,  the  servant  was  likewise  advanc 
ing. 

"  Confound  the  faithful  fellow,"  thought  Cap 
tain  Delano  ;  "  what  a  vexatious  coincidence." 

Possibly,  the  vexation  might  have  been  some 
thing  different,  were  it  not  for  the  brisk  confi 
dence  inspired  by  the  breeze.  But  even  as  it 
was,  he  felt  a  slight  twinge,  from  a  sudden 
indefinite  association  in  his  mind  of  Babo  with 
Atufal. 

"Don  Benito,"  said  he,  "I  give  you  joy; 
the  breeze  will  hold,  and  will  increase.  By  the 
way,  your  tall  man  and  time-piece,  Atufal, 
stands  without.  By  your  order,  of  course  ?" 

Don  Benito  recoiled,  as  if  at  some  bland 
satirical  touch,  delivered  with  such  adroit  gar- 


224  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

nish  of  apparent  good  breeding  as  to  present 
no  handle  for  retort. 

He  is  like  one  flayed  alive,  thought  Captain 
Delano ;  where  may  one  touch  him  without 
causing  a  shrink? 

The  servant  moved  before  his  master,  adjust 
ing  a  cushion  ;  recalled  to  civility,  the  Spaniard 
stiffly  replied  :  "  you  are  right.  The  slave  ap 
pears  where  you  saw  him,  according  to  my 
command  ;  which  is,  that  if  at  the  given  hour 
I  am  below,  he  must  take  his  stand  and  abide 
my  coming." 

"  Ah  now,  pardon  me,  but  that  is  treating 
the  poor  fellow  like  an  ex-king  indeed.  Ah, 
Don  Benito,"  smiling,  "  for  all  the  license  you 
permit  in  some  things,  I  fear  lest,  at  bottom, 
you  are  a  bitter  hard  master." 

Again  Don  Benito  shrank  ;  and  this  time,  as 
the  good  sailor  thought,  from  a  genuine  twinge 
of  his  conscience. 

Again  conversation  became  constrained.  In 
vain  Captain  Delano  called  attention  to  the  now 
perceptible  motion  of  the  keel  gently  cleaving 
the  sea ;  with  lack-lustre  eye,  Don  Benito  re 
turned  words  few  and  reserved. 


BENITO     CEKENO.  225 

By-and-by,  the  wind  having  steadily  risen, 
and  still  blowing  right  into  the  harbor,  bore 
the  San  Dominick  swiftly  on.  Bounding  a 
point  of  land,  the  sealer  at  distance  came  into 
open  view. 

Meantime  Captain  Delano  had  again  repaired 
to  the  deck,  remaining  there  some  time.  Hav 
ing  at  last  altered  the  ship's  course,  so  as  to  give 
the  reef  a  wide  berth,  he  returned  for  a  few 
moments  below. 

I  will  cheer  up  my  poor  friend,  this  time, 
thought  he. 

"  Better  and  better,"  Don  Benito,  he  cried 
as  he  blithely  re-entered  :  "  there  will  soon  be 
an  end  to  your  cares,  at  least  for  awhile.  For 
when,  after  a  long,  sad  voyage,  you  know,  the 
anchor  drops  into  the  haven,  all  its  vast  weight 
seems  lifted  from  the  captain's  heart.  We  are 
getting  on  famously,  Don  Benito.  My  ship  is 
in  sight.  Look  through  this  side-light  here  ; 
there  she  is  ;  all  a-taunt-o !  The  Bachelor's 
Delight,  my  good  friend.  Ah,  how  this  wind 
braces  one  up.  Come,  you  must  take  a  cup  of 
coffee  with  me  this  evening.  My  old  steward 

will  give  yoq  as  fine  a  cup  as  ever  any  sultan 
10* 


226  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

tasted.  What  say  you,  Don  Benito,  will 
you?" 

At  first,  the  Spaniard  glanced  feverishly  up, 
casting  a  longing  look  towards  the  sealer,  while 
with  mute  concern  his  servant  gazed  into  his 
face.  Suddenly  the  old  ague  of  coldness  re 
turned,  and  dropping  back  to  his  cushions  he 
was  silent. 

"  You  do  not  answer.  Come,  all  day  you 
have  been  my  host ;  would  you  have  hospitality 
all  on  one  side  ?" 

"  I  cannot  go,"  was  the  response. 

"  What  ?  it  will  not  fatigue  you.  The  ships 
will  lie  together  as  near  as  they  can,  without 
swinging  foul.  It  will  be  little  more  than  step 
ping  from  deck  to  deck  ;  which  is  but  as  from 
room  to  room.  Come,  come,  you  must  not  re 
fuse  me." 

"  I  cannot  go,"  decisively  and  repulsively 
repeated  Don  Benito. 

Renouncing  all  but  the  last  appearance  of 
courtesy,  with  a  sort  of  cadaverous  sullenness, 
and  biting  his  thin  nails  to  the  quick,  he  glanced, 
almost  glared,  at  his  guest,  as  if  impatient  that 
a  stranger's  presence  should  interfere  with  the 


BENITO     CERENO.  227 

full  indulgence  of  his  morbid  hour.  Meantime 
the  sound  of  the  parted  waters  came  more  and 
more  gurglingly  and  merrily  in  at  the  windows; 
as  reproaching  him  for  his  dark  spleen ;  as 
telling  him  that,  sulk  as  he  might,  and  go  mad 
with  it,  nature  cared  not  a  jot;  since,  whose 
fault  wras  it,  pray  ? 

But  the  foul  mood  was  now  at  its  depth,  as 
the  fair  wind  at  its  height. 

There  was  something  in  the  man  so  far  be 
yond  any  mere  unsociality  or  sourness  previ 
ously  evinced,  that  even  the  forbearing  good 
nature  of  his  guest  could  no  longer  endure  it. 
Wholly  at  a  loss  to  account  for  such  demeanor, 
and  deeming  sickness  with  eccentricity,  how 
ever  extreme,  no  adequate  excuse,  well  satisfied, 
too,  that  nothing  in  his  own  conduct  could 
justify  it,  Captain  Delano's  pride  began  to  be 
roused.  Himself  became  reserved.  But  all 
seemed  one  to  the  Spaniard.  Quitting  him, 
therefore,  Captain  Delano  once  more  went  to 
the  deck. 

The  ship  was  now  within  less  than  two 
miles  of  the  sealer.  The  whale-boat  was  seen 
darting  over  the  interval. 


228  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

To  be  brief,  the  two  vessels,  thanks  to  the 
pilot's  skill,  ere  long  in  neighborly  style  lay 
anchored  together. 

Before  returning  to  his  own  vessel,  Captain 
Delano  had  intended  communicating  to  Don 
Benito  the  smaller  details  of  the  proposed  ser 
vices  to  be  rendered.  But,  as  it  was,  unwilling 
anew  to  subject  himself  to  rebuffs,  he  resolved, 
now  that  he  had  seen  the  San  Dominick  safely 
moored,  immediately  to  quit  her,  without  fur 
ther  allusion  to  hospitality  or  business.  Indefi 
nitely  postponing  his  ulterior  plans,  he  would 
regulate  his  future  actions  according  to  future 
circumstances.  His  boat  was  ready  to  receive 
him ;  but  his  host  still  tarried  belo\v.  Well, 
thought  Captain  Delano,  if  he  has  little  breed 
ing,  the  more  need  to  show  mine.  He  de 
scended  to  the  cabin  to  bid  a  ceremonious,  and, 
it  may  be,  tacitly  rebukeful  adieu.  But  to  his 
great  satisfaction,  Don  Benito.  as  if  he  began  to 
feel  the  weight  of  that  treatment  with  which 
his  slighted  guest  had,  not  indecorously,  retali 
ated  upon  him,  now  supported  by.his  servant, 
rose  to  his  feet,  and  grasping  Captain  Delano's 
hand,  stood  tremulous ;  too  much  agitated  to 


BENITO     CERENO.  229 

speak.  But  the  good  augury  hence  drawn  was 
suddenly  dashed,  by  his  resuming  all  his  pre 
vious  reserve,  with  augmented  gloom,  as,  with 
half-averted  eyes,  he  silently  reseated  himself 
on  his  cushions.  With  a  corresponding  return 
of  his  own  chilled  feelings,  Captain  Delano 
bowed  and  withdrew. 

He  was  hardly  midway  in  the  narrow  corri 
dor,  dim  as  a  tunnel,  leading  from  the  cabin  to 
the  stairs,  when  a  sound,  as  of  the  tolling  for 
execution  in  some  jail-yard,  fell  on  his  ears.  It 
was  the  echo  of  the  ship's  flawed  bell,  striking 
the  hour,  drearily  reverberated  in  this  subterra 
nean  vault.  Instantly,  by  a  fatality  not  to  be 
withstood,  his  mind,  responsive  to  the  portent, 
swarmed  with  superstitious  suspicions.  He 
paused.  In  images  far  swifter  than  these  sen 
tences,  the  minutest  details  of  all  his  former 
distrusts  swept  through  him. 

Hitherto,  credulous  good-nature  had  been 
too  ready  to  furnish  excuses  for  reasonable 
fears.  Why  was  the  Spaniard,  so  superfluously 
punctilious  at  times,  now  heedless  of  common 
propriety  in  not  accompanying  to  the  side  his 
departing  guest?  Did  indisposition  forbid? 


230  THE      PIAZZA      TALES. 

Indisposition  had  not  forbidden  more  irksome 
exertion  that  day.  His  last  equivocal  demean 
or  recurred.  He  had  risen  to  his  feet,  grasped 
his  guest's  hand,  motioned  toward  his  hat ; 
then,  in  an  instant,  all  was  eclipsed  in  sinister 
muteness  and  gloom.  Did  this  imply  one  brief, 
repentant  relenting  at  the  final  moment,  from 
some  iniquitous  plot,  followed  by  remorseless 
return  to  it  ?  His  last  glance  seemed  to  ex 
press  a  calamitous,  yet  acquiescent  farewell  to 
Captain  Delano  forever.  Why  decline  the  in 
vitation  to  visit  the  sealer  that  evening  ?  Or 
was  the  Spaniard  less  hardened  than  the  Jew, 
who  refrained  riot  from  supping  at  the  board  of 
him  whom  the  same  night  he  meant  to  betray  ? 
What  imported  all  those  day-long  enigmas  and 
contradictions,  except  they  were  intended  to 
mystify,  preliminary  to  some  stealthy  blow? 
Atufal,  the  pretended  rebel,  but  punctual 
shadow,  that  moment  lurked  by  the  threshold 
without.  He  seemed  a  sentry,  and  more. 
Who,  by  his  own  confession,  had  stationed 
him  there?  Wras  the  negro  now  lying  in 
wait? 

The  Spaniard  behind — his  creature  before : 


BENITO     CEEENO.  231 

to  rush  from  darkness  to  light  was  the  involun 
tary  choice. 

The  next  moment,  with  clenched  jaw  and 
hand,  he  passed  Atufal,  and  stood  unharmed  in 
the  light.  As  he  saw  his  trim  ship  lying 
peacefully  at  anchor,  and  almost  within  ordi 
nary  call ;  as  he  saw  his  household  boat,  with 
familiar  faces  in  it,  patiently  rising  and  falling 
on  the  short  waves  by  the  San  Dominick's 
side ;  and  then,  glancing  about  the  decks 
where  he  stood,  saw  the  oakum-pickers  still 
gravely'  plying  their  ringers ;  and  heard  the 
low,  buzzing  whistle  and  industrious  hum  of 
the  hatchet-polishers,  still  bestirring  themselves 
over  their  endless  occupation ;  and  more  than 
all,  as  he  saw  the  benign  aspect  of  nature, 
taking  her  innocent  repose  in  the  evening ; 
the  screeened  sun  in  the  quiet  camp  of  the 
west  shining  out  like  the  mild  light  from 
Abraham's  tent ;  as  charmed  eye  and  ear  took 
in  all  these,  with  the  chained  figure  of  the 
black,  clenched  jaw  and  hand  relaxed.  Once 
again  he  smiled  at  the  phantoms  which  had 
mocked  him,  and  felt  something  like  a  tinge 
of  remorse,  that,,  by  harboring  them  even  for  a 


232  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

moment,  he  should,  by  implication,  have  be 
trayed  an  atheist  doubt  of  the  ever- watchful 
Providence  above. 

There  was  a  few  minutes'  delay,  while,  in 
obedience  to  his  orders,  the  boat  was  being 
hooked  along  to  the  gangway.  During  this 
interval,  a  sort  of  saddened  satisfaction  stole 
over  Captain  Delano,  at  thinking  of  the  kindly 
offices  he  had  that  day  discharged  for  a  stran 
ger.  Ah,  thought  he,  after  good  actions  one's 
conscience  is  never  ungrateful,  however  much 
so  the  benefited  party  may  be. 

Presently,  his  foot,  in  the  first  act  of  descent 
into  the  boat,  pressed  the  first  round  of  the 
side-ladder,  his  face  presented  inward  upon  the 
deck.  In  the  same  moment,  he  heard  his  name 
courteously  sounded  ;  and,  to  his  pleased  sur 
prise,  saw  Don  Benito  advancing — an  unwont 
ed  energy  in  his  air,  as  if,  at  the  last  moment, 
intent  upon  making  amends  for  his  recent  dis 
courtesy.  With  instinctive  good  feeling,  Cap 
tain  Delano,  withdrawing  his  foot,  turned  and 
reciprocally  advanced.  As  he  did  so,  the 
Spaniard's  nervous  eagerness  increased,  but  his 
vital  energy  failed  ;  so  that,  the  better  to  sup- 


BENITO      CERENO.  233 

port  him,  the  servant,  placing  his  master's 
hand  on  his  naked  shoulder,  and  gently  hold 
ing  it  there,  formed  himself  into  a  sort  of 
crutch. 

When  the  two  captains  met,  the  Spaniard 
again  fervently  took  the  hand  of  the  American, 
at  the  same  time  casting  an  earnest  glance  into 
his  eyes,  but,  as  before,  too  much  overcome  to 
speak. 

I  have  done  him  wrong,  self-reproachfully 
thought  Captain  Delano;  his  apparent  cold 
ness  has  deceived  me ;  in  no  instance  has  he 
meant  to  offend. 

Meantime,  as  if  fearful  that  the  continuance 
of  the  scene  might  too  much  unstring  his  mas 
ter,  the  servant  seemed  anxious  to  terminate 
it.  And  so,  still  presenting  himself  as  a  crutch, 
and  walking  between  the  two  captains,  he  ad 
vanced  with  them  towards  the  gangway  ;  while 
still,  as  if  full  of  kindly  contrition,  Don  "Benito 
would  not  let  go  the  hand  of  Captain  Delano, 
but  retained  it  in  his,  across  the  black's  body. 

Soon  they  were  standing  by  the  side,  looking 
over  into  the  boat,  whose  crew  turned  up  their 
curious  eyes.  Waiting  a  moment  for  the  Span- 


234  THE     PIAZZA      TALES. 

iard  to  relinquish  his  hold,  the  now  embarrassed 
Captain  Delano  lifted  his  foot,  to  overstep  the 
threshold  of  the  open  gangway ;  but  still  Don 
Benito  would  not  let  go  his  hand.  And 
yet,  with  an  agitated  tone,  he  said,  "  I  can 
go  no  further ;  here  I  must  bid  you  adieu. 
Adieu,  my  dear,  dear  Don  Amasa.  Go — go  !" 
suddenly  tearing  his  hand  loose,  "go,  and  God 
guard  you  better  than  me,  my  best  friend." 

Not  unaffected,  Captain  Delano  would  now 
have  lingered  j  but  catching  the  meekly  ad 
monitory  eye  of  the  servant,  with  a  hasty  fare 
well  he  descended  into  his  boat,  followed  by 
the  continual  adieus  of  Don  Benito,  standing 
rooted  in  the  gangway. 

Seating  himself  in  the  stern,  Captain  Delano, 
making  a  last  salute,  ordered  the  boat  shoved 
off.  The  crew  had  their  oars  on  end.  The 
bowsmen  pushed  the  boat  a  sufficient  distance 
for  the  oars  to  be  lengthwise  dropped.  The 
instant  that  was  done,  Don  Benito  sprang  over 
the  bulwarks,  falling  .at  the  feet  of  Captain 
Delano ;  at  the  same  time  calling  towards  his 
ship,  but  in  tones  so  frenzied,  that  none  in  the 
boat  could  understand  him.  But,  as  if  not 


BENITO    CERE NO.  235 

equally  obtuse,  three  sailors,  from  three  differ 
ent  and  distant  parts  of  the  ship,  splashed  into 
the  sea,  swimming  after  their  captain,  as  if  in 
tent  upon  his  rescue. 

x 

The  dismayed  officer  of  the  boat  eagerly 
asked  what  this  meant.  To  which,  Captain 
Delano,  turning  a  disdainful  smile  upon  the 
unaccountable  Spaniard,  answered  that,  for  his 
part,  he  neither  knew  nor  cared  ;  but  it  seemed 
as  if  Don  Benito  had  taken  it  into  his  head  to 
produce  the  impression  among  his  people  that 
the  boat  wanted  to  kidnap  him.  "  Or  else — 
give  way  for  your  lives,"  he  wildly  added, 
starting  at  a  clattering  hubbub  in  the  ship, 
above  which  rang  the  tocsin  of  the  hatchet- 
polishers  ;  and  seizing  Don  Benito  by  the 
throat  he  added,  "  this  plotting  pirate  means 
murder!"  Here,  in  apparent  verification  of 
the  words,  the  servant,  a  dagger  in  his  hand, 
was  seen  on  the  rail  overhead,  poised,  in  the 
act  of  leaping,  as  if  with  desperate  fidelity  to 
befriend  his  master  to  the  last ;  while,  seem 
ingly  to  aid  the  black,  the  three  white  sailors 
were  trying  to  clamber  into  the  hampered 
bow.  Meantime,  the  whole  host  of  negroes,  as 


236  THE      PIAZZA     TALES. 

if  inflamed  at  the  sight  of  their  jeopardized 
captain,  impended  in  one  sooty  avalanche  over 
the  bulwarks. 

All  this,  with  what  preceded,  and  what 
followed,  occurred  with  such  involutions  of 
rapidity,  that  past,  present,  and  future  seemed 
one. 

Seeing  the  negro  coming,  Captain  Delano 
had  flung  the  Spaniard  aside,  almost  in  the 
very  act  of  clutching  him,  and,  by  the  uncon 
scious  recoil,  shifting  his  place,  with  arms 
thrown  up,  so  promptly  grappled  the  servant  in 
his  descent,  that  with  dagger  presented  at  Cap 
tain  Delano's  heart,  the  black  seemed  of  pur 
pose  to  have  leaped  there  as  to  his  mark.  But 
the  weapon  was  wrenched  away,  and  the  as 
sailant  dashed  down  into  the  bottom  of  the 
boat,  which  now,  with  disentangled  oars,  began 
to  speed  through  the  sea. 

At  .this  juncture,  the  left  hand  of  Captain 
Delano,  on  one  side,  again  clutched  the  half- 
reclined  Don  Benito,  heedless  that  he  was  in  a 
speechless  faint,  while  his  right  foot,  on  the 
other  side,  ground  the  prostrate  negro  ;  and  his 
right  arm  pressed  for  added  speed  on  the  after 


BENITO     CERENO.  237 

oar,  bis  eye  bent  forward,  encouraging  his  men 
to  tbeir  utmost. 

But  here,  the  officer  of  the  boat,  who  had  at 
last  succeeded  in  beating  off  the  towing  sailors, 
and  was  now,  with  face  turned  aft,  assisting 
the  bowsman  at  his  oar,  suddenly  called  to 
Captain  Delano,  to  see  what  the  black  was 
about ;  while  a  Portuguese  oarsman  shouted  to 
him  to  give  heed  to  what  the  Spaniard  was 
saying. 

Glancing  down  at  his  feet,  Captain  Delano 
saw  the  freed  hand  of  the  servant  aiming  with 
a  second  dagger — a  small  one,  before  concealed 
in  his  wool — with  this  he  was  snakishly  writh 
ing  up  from  the  boat's  bottom,  at  the  heart  of 
his  master,  his  countenance  lividly  vindictive, 
expressing  the  centred  purpose  of  his  soul; 
while  the  Spaniard,  half-choked,  was  vainly 
shrinking  away,  with  husky  words,  incoherent 
to  all  but  the  Portuguese. 

That  moment,  across  the  long-benighted 
mind  of  Captain  Delano,  a  flash  of  revelation 
swept,  illuminating,  in  unanticipated  clearness, 
his  host's  whole  mysterious  demeanor,  with 
every  enigmatic  event  of  the  day,  as  well  as 


• 


238  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

the  entire  past  voyage  of  the  San  Dominick. 
He  smote  Babo's  hand  down,  but  his  own 
heart  smote  him  harder.  With  infinite  pity 
he  withdrew  his  hold  from  Don  Benito.  Not 
Captain  Delano,  but  Don  Benito,  the  black,  in 
leaping  into  the  boat,  had  intended  to  stab. 

Both  the  black's  hands  were  held,  as,  glanc 
ing  up  towards  the  San  Dominick,  Captain 
Delano,  now  with  scales  dropped  from  his 
eyes,  saw  the  negroes,  not  in  misrule,  not  in 
tumult,  not  as  if  frantically  concerned  for  Don 
Benito,  but  with  mask  torn  away,  flourishing 
hatchets  and  knives,  in  ferocious  piratical  re 
volt.  Like  delirious  black  dervishes,  the  six 
Ashantees  danced  on  the  poop.  Prevented  by 
their  foes  from  springing  into  the  water,  the 
Spanish  boys  were  hurrying  up  to  the  topmost 
spars,  while  such  of  the  few  Spanish  sailors, 
not  already  in  the  sea,  less  alert,  were  descried, 
helplessly  mixed  in,  on  deck,  with  the  blacks. 

Meantime  Captain  Delano  hailed  his  own 
vessel,  ordering  the  ports  up,  and  the  guns  run 
out.  But  by  this  time  the  cable  of  the  San 
Dominick  had  been  cut ;  and  the  fag-end,  in 
lashing  out,  whipped  away  the  canvas  shroud 


BENITO     CERENO.  239 

about  the  beak,  suddenly  revealing,  as  the 
bleached  hull  swung  round  towards  the  open 
ocean,  death  for  the  figure-head,  in  a  human 
skeleton;  chalky  comment  on  the  chalked 
words  below,  "Follow  your  leader" 

At  the  sight,  Don  Benito,  covering  his  face, 
wailed  out:  "  'Tis  he,  Aranda!  my  murdered, 
unburied  friend !" 

Upon  reaching  the  sealer,  calling  for  ropes, 
Captain  Delano  bound  the  negro,  who  made 
no  resistance,  and  had  him  hoisted  to  the  deck. 
He  would  then  have  assisted  the  now  almost 
helpless  Don  Benito  up  the  side;  but  Don 
Benito,  wan  as  he  was,  refused  to  move,  or 
be  moved,  until  the  negro  should  have  been 
first  put  below  out  of  view.  When,  presently 
assured  that  it  was  done,  he  no  more  shrank 
from  the  ascent. 

The  boat  was  immediately  dispatched  back 
to  pick  up  the  three  swimming  sailors.  Mean 
time,  the  guns  were  in  readiness,  though,  owing 
to  the  San  Dominick  having  glided  somewhat 
astern  of  the  sealer,  only  the  aftermost  one 
could  be  brought  to  bear.  With  this,  they 
fired  six  times ;  thinking  to  cripple  the  fugitive 


240  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

ship  by  bringing  down  her.  spars.  But  only 
a  few  inconsiderable  ropes  were  shot  away. 
Soon  the  ship  was  beyond  the  gun's  range, 
steering  broad  out  of  the  bay;  the  blacks 
thickly  clustering  round  the  bowsprit,  one  mo 
ment  with  taunting  cries  towards  the  whites, 
the  next  with  up  thrown  gestures  hailing  the 
now  dusky  moors  of  ocean — cawing  crows  es 
caped  from  the  hand  of  the  fowler. 

The  first  impulse  was  to  slip  the  cables  and 
give  chase.  But,  upon  second  thoughts,  to 
pursue  with  whale-boat  and  yawl  seemed  more 
promising. 

Upon  inquiring  of  Don  Benito  what  fire 
arms  they  had  on  board  the  San  Domiriick, 
Captain  Delano  was  answered  that  they  had 
none  that  could  be  used ;  because,  in  the  earlier 
stages  of  the  mutiny,  a  cabin-passenger,  since 
dead,  had  secretly  put  out  of  order  the  locks 
of  what  few  muskets  there  were.  But  with 
all  his  remaining  strength,  Don  Benito  entreat 
ed  the  American  not  to  give  chase,  either  with 
ship  or  boat;  for  the  negroes  had  already 
proved  themselves  such  desperadoes,  that,  in 
case  of  a  present  assault,  nothing  but  a  total 


BENITO     CERE  NO.  211 

massacre  of  the  whiles  could  be  looked  for. 
But,  regarding  this  warning  as  coming  from 
one  whose  spirit  had  been  crashed  by  misery 
the  American  did  not  give  up  his  design. 

The  boats  were  got  ready  and  armed.  Cap 
tain  Delano  ordered  his  men  into  them.  He 
was  going  himself  when  Don  Benito  grasped 
his  arm. 

"What!  have  you  saved  my  life,  Senor,  and 
are  you  now  going  to  throw  away  your  own?" 

The  officers  also,  for  reasons  connected  with 
their  interests  and  those  of  the  voyage,  and  a 
duty  owing  to  the  owners,  strongly  objected 
against  their  commander's  going.  Weighing 
their  remonstrances  a  moment,  Captain  Delano 
felt  bound  to  remain ;  appointing  his  chief  mate 
— an  athletic  and  resolute  man,  who  had  been 
a  privateer's-man — to  head  the  party,;  The 
more  to  encourage  the  sailors,  they  were  told, 
that  the  Spanish  captain  considered  his  ship 
good  as  lost ;  that  she  and  her  cargo,  including 
some  gold  and  silver,  were  worth  more  than  a 
thousand  doubloons.  Take  her,  and  no  small 
part  should  be  theirs.  The  sailors  replied  with 

a  shout. 
11 


242  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

The  fugitives  had  now  almost  gained  an 
offing.  It  was  nearly  night;  but  the  moon 
was  rising.  After  hard,  prolonged  pulling,  the 
boats  came  up  on  the  ship's  quarters,  at  a 
suitable  distance  laying  upon  their  oars  to  dis 
charge  their  muskets.  Having  no  bullets  to 
return,  the  negroes  sent  their  yells.  But,  upon 
the  second  volley,  Indian-like,  they  hurtled 
their  hatchets.  One  took  off  a  sailor's  ringers. 
Another  struck  the  whale-boat's  bow,  cutting 
off  the  rope  there,  and  remaining  stuck  in  the 
gunwale  like  a  woodman's  axe.  Snatching  it, 
quivering  from  its  lodgment,  the  mate  hurled  it 
back.  The  returned  gauntlet  now  stuck  in 
the  ship's  broken  quarter-gallery,  and  so  re 
main  eel. 

Tjae  negroes  giving  too  hot  a  reception,  the 
whites  kept  a  more  respectful  distance.  Ho 
vering  now  just  out  of  reach  of  the  hurtling 
hatchets,  they,  with  a  view  to  the  close  en 
counter  which  must  soon  come,  sought  to  de 
coy  the  blacks  into  entirely  disarming  them 
selves  of  their  most  murderous  weapons  in  a 
hand-to-hand  fight,  by  foolishly  flinging  them, 
as  missiles,  short  of  the  mark,  into  the  sea. 


BENITO     CERENO.  ,          243 

But,  ere  long,  perceiving  the  stratagem,  the 
negroes  desisted,  though  not  before  many  of 
them  had  to  replace  their  lost  hatchets  with 
handspikes;  an  exchange  which,  as  counted 
upon,  proved,  in  the  end,  favorable  to  the  as 
sailants. 

Meantime,  with  a  strong  wind,  the  ship  still 
clove  the  wrater;  the  boats  alternately  falling 
behind,  and  pulling  up,  to  discharge  fresh  vol 
leys. 

The  fire  was  mostly  directed  towards  the 
stern,  since  there,  chiefly,  the  negroes,  at  pres 
ent,  were  clustering.  But  to  kill  or  maim  the 
negroes  was  not  the  object.  To  take  them, 
with  the  ship,  was  the  object.  To  do  it,  the 
ship  must  be  boarded ;  which  could  not  be 
done  by  boats  while  she  was  sailing  so  fast. 

A  thought  now  struck  the  mate.  Observing 
the  Spanish  boys  still  aloft,  high  as  they  could 
get,  he  called  to  them  to  descend  to  the  yards, 
and  cut  adrift  the  sails.  It  was  done.  About 
this  time,  owing  to  causes  hereafter  to  be 
shown,  two  Spaniards,  in  the  dress  of  sailors, 
and  conspicuously  showing  themselves,  were 
killed ;  not  by  volleys,  but  by  deliberate  marks- 


2-14  THE      PIAZZA     TALES 

• 

man's  shots ;  while,  as  it  afterwards  appeared, 
by  one  of  the  general  discharges,  Atufal,  the 
black,  and  the  Spaniard  at  the  helm  likewise 
were  killed.  What  now,  with  the  loss  of  the 
sails,  and  loss  of  leaders,  the  ship  became  un 
manageable  to  the  negroes. 

With  creaking  masts,  she  came  heavily  round 
to  the  wind;  the  prow  slowly  swinging  into 
view  of  the  boats,  its  skeleton  gleaming  in  the 
horizontal  moonlight,  and  casting  a  gigantic 
ribbed  shadow  upon  the  water.  One  extended 
arm  of  the  ghost  seemed  beckoning  the  whites 
to  avenge  it. 

"Follow  your  leader!"  cried  the  mate  ;  and, 
one  on  each  bow,  the  boats  boarded.  Sealing- 
spears  and  cutlasses  crossed  hatchets  and  hand 
spikes.  Huddled  upon  the  long-boat  amidships, 
the  negresses  raised  a  wailing  chant,  whose 
chorus  was  the  clash  of  the  steel. 

For  a  time,  the  attack  wavered ;  the  negroes 
wedging  themselves  to  beat  it  back ;  the  half- 
repelled  sailors,  as  yet  unable  to  gain  a  foot 
ing,  fighting  as  troopers  in  the  saddle,  one  leg 
sideways  flung  over  the  bulwarks,  and  one 
without,  plying  their  cutlasses  like  carters' 


BENITO     CERENO.  245 

whips.  But  in  vain.  They  were  almost  over 
borne,  when,  rallying  themselves  into  a  squad 
as  one  man,  with  a  huzza,  they  s'prang  inboard, 
where,  entangled,  they  involuntarily  separated 
again.  For  a  few  breaths'  space,  there  was  a 
vague,  muffled,  inner  sound,  as  of  submerged 
sword-fish  rushing  hither  and  thither  through 
shoals  of  black-fish.  Soon,  in  a  reunited  band, 
and  joined  by  the  Spanish  seamen,  the  whites 
came  to  the  surface,  irresistibly  driving  the 
negroes  toward  the  stern.  But  a  barricade 
of  casks  and  sacks,  from  side  to  side,  had  been 
thrown  up  by  the  mainmast.  Here  the  negroes 
faced  about,  and  though  scorning  peace  or 
truce,  yet  fain  would  have  had  respite.  But, 
without  pause,  overleaping  the  barrier,  the  un 
flagging  sailors  again  closed.  Exhausted,  the 
blacks  now  fought  in  despair.  Their  red 
tongues  lolled,  wolf-like,  from  their  black 
mouths.  But  the  pale  sailors'  teeth  were  set ; 
not  a  ,word  was  spoken ;  and,  in  five  minutes 
more,  the  ship  was  won. 

Nearly  a  score  of  the  negroes  were  killed. 
Exclusive  of  those  by  the  balls,  many  were 
mangled;  their  wounds — mostly  inflicted  by 


246  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

the  long-edged  sealing-spears,  resembling  those 
shaven  ones  of  the  English  at  Preston  Pans, 
made  by  the  poled  scythes  of  the  Highlanders. 
On  the  other  side,  none  were  killed,  though 
several  were  wounded;  some  severely,  includ 
ing  the  mate.  The  surviving  negroes  were 
temporarily  secured,  and  the  ship,  towed  back 
into  the  harbor  at  midnight,  once  more  lay 
anchored. 

Omitting  the  incidents  and  arrangements  en 
suing,  suffice  it  that,  after  two  days  spent  in 
refitting,  the  ships  sailed  in  company  for  Con 
ception,  in  Chili,  and  thence  for  Lima,  in  Peru; 
where,  before  the  vice-regal  courts,  the  whole 
affair,  from  the  beginning,  underwent  investi 
gation. 

Though,  midway  on  the  passage,  the  ill- 
fated  Spaniard,  relaxed  from  constraint,  showed 
some  signs  of  regaining  health  with  free-will; 
yet,  agreeably  to  his  own  foreboding,  shortly 
before  arriving  at  Lima,  he  relapsed,  finally 
becoming  so  reduced  as  to  be  carried  ashore  in 
arms.  Hearing  of  his  story  and  plight,  one  of 
the  many  religious  institutions  of  the  City  of 
Kings  opened  an  hospitable  refuge  to  him, 


BENITO     CERE NO.  247 

where  both  physician  and  priest  were  his 
nurses,  and  a  member  of  the  order  volunteered 
to  be  his  one  special  guardian  and  consoler,  by 
night  and  by  day. 

The  following  extracts,  translated  from  one 
of  the  official  Spanish  documents,  will,  it  is 
hoped,  shed  light  on  the  preceding  narrative, 
as  well  as,  in  the  first  place,  reveal  the  true 
port  of  departure  and  true  history  of  the  San 
Dominick's  voyage,  down  to  the  time  of  her 
touching  at  the  island  of  St.  Maria. 

But,  ere  the  extracts  come,  it  may  be  well 
to  preface  them  witli  a  remark. 

The  document  selected,  from  among  many 
others,  for  partial  translation,  contains  the 
deposition  of  Benito  Cereno ;  the  first  taken  in 
the  case.  Some  disclosures  therein  were,  at 
the  time,  held  dubious  for  both  learned  and 
natural  reasons.  The  tribunal  inclined  to  the 
opinion  that  the  deponent,  not  undisturbed  in 
his  mind  by  recent  events,  raved  of  some  things 
which  could  never  have  happened.  But  sub 
sequent  depositions  of  the  surviving  sailors, 
bearing  out  the  revelations  of  their  captain  in 
several  of  the  strangest  particulars,  gave  ere- 


248  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

dence  to  the  rest.  So  that  the  tribunal,  in  its 
final  decision,  rested  its  capital  sentences  upon 
statements  which,  had  they  lacked  confirma 
tion,  it  would  have  deemed  it  but  duty  to 
reject. 

I,  DON  JOSE  DE  ABOS  AND  PADILLA,  His 
Majesty's  Notary  for  the  Royal  Revenue,  and 
Register  of  this  Province,  and  Notary  Public 
of  the  Holy  Crusade  of  this  Bishopric,  etc. 

Do  certify  and  declare,  as  much  as  is  requis 
ite  in  law,  that,  in  the  criminal  cause  com 
menced  the  twenty-fourth  of  the  month  of 
September,  in  the  year  seventeen  hundred  and 
ninety-nine,  against  the  negroes  of  the  ship 
San  Dominick,  the  following  declaration  before 
me  was  made : 

Declaration  of  the  first  witness,  DON  BENITO  CERENO. 

The  same  day,  and  month,  and  year,  His  Honor,  Doctor 
Juan  Martinez  de  Rozas,  Councilor  of  the  Royal  Audience 
of  this  Kingdom,  and  learned  in  the  law  of  this  Intendency, 
ordered  the  captain  of  the  ship  San  Dominick,  Don  Benito 
Cereno,  to  appear ;  which  be  did  in  his  litter,  attended  by 
the  monk  Infelez ;  of  whom  he  received  the  oath,  which 
he  took  by  God,  our  Lord,  and  a  sign  of  the  Cross  ;  under 
which  he  promised  to  tell  the  truth  of  whatever  he  should 
know  and  should  be  asked  ; — and  being  interrogated  agree- 


BENITO     CERENO.  249 

ably  to  the  tenor  of  the  act  commencing  the  process, 
he  said,  that  on  the  twentieth  of  May  last,  he  set  sail  with 
his  ship  from  the  port  of  Valparaiso,  bound  to  that  of  Cal- 
lao ;  loaded  with  the  produce  of  the  country  beside  thirty 
cases  of  hardware  and  one  hundred  and  sixty  blacks,  of  both 
sexes,  mostly  belonging  to  Don  Alexandro  Aranda,  gentle 
man,  of  the  city  of  Mendoza ;  that  the  crew  of  the  ship 
consisted  of  thirty-six  men,  beside  the  persons  who  went  as 
passengers  ;  that  the  negroes  were  in  part  as  follows  : 

[Here,  in  the  original,  follows  a  list  of  some  fifty  names, 
descriptions,  and  ages,  compiled  from  certain  recovered  docu 
ments  of  Aranda's,  and  also  from  recollections  of  the  depo 
nent,  from  which  portions  only  are  extracted.] 

— One,  from  about  eighteen  to  nineteen  years,  named 
Jose,  and  this  was  the  man  that  wraited  upon  his  master, 
Don  Alexandro,  and  who  speaks  well  the  Spanish,  having 
served  him  four  or  five  years ;  *  *  *  a  mulatto,  named  Frances 
co,  the  cabin  steward,  of  a  good  person  and  voice,  having  sung 
in  the  Valparaiso  churches,  native  of  the  province  of  Bue 
nos  Ayres,  aged  about  thirty-five  years.  *  *  *  A  smart 
negro,  named  Dago,  who  had  been  for  many  years  a  grave- 
digger  among  the  Spaniards,  aged  forty-six  years.  *  *  * 
Four  old  negroes,  born  in  Africa,  from  sixty  to  seventy,  but 
sound,  calkers  by  trade,  whose  names  are  as  follows  : — the 
first  was  named  Muri,  and  he  was  killed  (as  was  also  his  son 
named  Diamelo)  ;  the  second,  Nacta  ;  the  third,  Yola,  likewise 
killed  ;  the  fourth,  Ghofan  ;  and  six  full-grown  negroes,  aged 
from  thirty  to  forty-five,  all  raw,  and  born  among  the  Ash- 
antees — Matiluqui,  Yan,  Lecbe,  Maperida,  Yambaio,  Akim  ; 
four  of  whom  were  killed  ;  *  *  *  a  powerful  negro  named 
Atufal,  Avho  being  supposed  to  have  been  a  chief  in  Africa, 
his  owner  set  great  store  by  him.  *  *  *  And  a  small 
negro  of  Senegal,  but  some  years  among  the  Spaniards,  aged 


250  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

about  thirty,  which  negro's  name  was  Babo  ;  *  *  *  that  he 
does  not  remember  the  names  of  the  others,  but  that  still  ex. 
pecting  the  residue  of  Don  Alexaudro's  papers  will  be  found, 
will  then  take  due  account  of  them  all,  and  remit  to  the 
court ;  *  *  *  and  thirty-nine  women  and  children  of  all 
ages. 

[  The  catalogue  over,  the  deposition  goes  on  •] 

*  *  *  That  all  the  negroes  slept  upon  deck,  as  is  custom 
ary  in  this  navigation,  and  none  wore  fetters,  because  the 
owner,  his  friend  Aranda,  told  him  that  they  were  all  tract 
able  ;  *  *  *  that  on  the  seventh  day  after  leaving  port,  at 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  all  the  Spaniards  being  asleep 
except  the  two  officers  on  the  watch,  who  were  the  boat 
swain,  Juan  Eobles,  and  the  carpenter,  Juan  Bautista  Ga- 
yete,  and  the  helmsman  and  his  boy,  the  negroes  revolted 
suddenly,  wounded  dangerously  the  boatswain  and  the  car 
penter,  and  successively  killed  eighteen  men  of  those  who 
were  sleeping  upon  deck,  some  with  hand-spikes  and  hatchets, 
and  others  by  throwing  them  alive  overboard,  after  tying 
them  ;  that  of  the  Spaniards  upon  deck,  they  left  about 
seven,  as  he  thinks,  alive  and  tied,  to  manoeuvre  the  ship, 
and  three  or  four  more,  who  hid  themselves,  remained  also 
alive.  Although  in  the  act  of  revolt  the  negroes  made 
themselves  masters  of  the  hatchway,  six  or  seven  wounded 
went  through  it  to  the  cockpit,  without  any  hindrance  on 
their  part ;  that  during  the  act  of  revolt,  the  mate  and  an 
other  person,  whose  name  he  does  not  recollect,  attempted  to 
come  up  through  the  hatchway,  but  being  quickly  wounded, 
were  obliged  to  return  to  the  cabin ;  that  the  deponent  re 
solved  at  break  of  day  to  come  up  the  companion-way,  where 
the  negro  Babo  was,  being  the  ringleader,  and  Atufal,  who 
assisted  him,  and  having  spoken  to  them,  exhorted  them  to 
cease  committing  such  atrocities,  asking  them,  at  the  same 


BENITO     CERE  NO.  251 

time,  what  they  wanted  and  intended  to  do,  offering1,  himself, 
to  obey  their  commands ;  that  notwithstanding  this,  they 
threw',  in  his  presence,  three  men,  alive  and  tied,  overboard  ; 
that  they  told  the  deponent  to  come  up,  and  that  they  would 
not  kill  him ;  which  having  done,  the  negro  Babo  asked  him 
whether  there  were  in  those  seas  any  negro  countries  where 
they  might  be  carried,  and  he  answered  them,  No  ;  that  the 
negro  Babo  afterwards  told  him  to  carry  them  to  Senegal, 
or  to  the  neighboring  islands  of  St.  Nicholas ;  and  he  an 
swered,  that  this  was  impossible,  on  account  of  the  great 
distance,  the  necessity  involved  of  rounding  Cape  Horn,  the 
bad  condition  of  the  vessel,  the  want  of  provisions,  sails,  and 
water  ;  but  that  the  negro  Babo  replied  to  him  he  must 
carry  them  in  any  way  ;  that  they  would  do  and  conform 
themselves  to  everything  the  deponent  should  require  as  to 
eating  and  drinking  ;  that  after  a  long  conference,  being  ab 
solutely  compelled  to  please  them,  for  they  threatened  to  kill 
all  the  whites  if  they  were  not,  at  all  events,  carried  to  Se 
negal,  "he  told  them  that  what  was  most  wanting  for  the 
voyage  was  water  ;  that  they  would  go  near  the  coast  to 
take  it,  and  thence  they  would  proceed  on  their  course  ;  that 
the  negro  Babo  agreed  to  it ;  and  the  deponent  steered  to 
wards  the  intermediate  ports,  hoping  to  meet  some  Spanish 
or  foreign  vessel  that  would  save  them  ;  that  within  ten  or 
eleven  days  they  saw  the  land,  and  continued  their  course  by 
it  in  the  vicinity  of  Nasca ;  that  the  deponent  observed  that 
the  negroes  were  now  restless  and  mutinous,  because  he  did 
not  effect  the  taking  in  of  water,  the  negro  Babo  having  re 
quired,  with  threats,  that  it  should  be  done,  without  fail,  the 
following  day  ;  he  told  him  he  saw  plainly  that  the  coast 
was  steep,  and  the  rivers  designated  in  the  maps  were  not  to 
be  found,  with  other  reasons  suitable  to  the  circumstances  ; 
that  the  best  way  would  be  to  go  to  the  island  of  Santa 
Maria,  where  they  might  water  easily,  it  being  a  solitary 
island,  as  the  foreigners  did  ;  that  the  deponent  did  not  go  to 


252  THE      PIAZZA     TALES. 

Pisco,  that  was  near,  nor  make  any  other  port  of  the  coast, 
because  the  negro  Babo  had  intimated  to  him  several  times, 
that  he  would  kill  all  the  whites  the  very  moment  he  should 
perceive  any  city,  town,  or  settlement  of  any  kind  on  the 
shores  to  which  they  should  be  carried  :  that  having  deter 
mined  to  go  to  the  island  of  Santa  Maria,  as  the  deponent 
had  planned,  for  the  purpose  of  trying  whether,  on  the  pas 
sage  or  near  the  island  itself,  they  could  find  any  vessel  that 
should  favor  them,  or  whether  he  could  escape  from  it  in  a 
boat  to  the  neighboring  coast  of  Arruco,  to  adopt  the  ne 
cessary  means  he  immediately  changed  his  course,  steering 
for  the  island  ;  that  the  negroes  Babo  and  Atufal  held  daily 
conferences,  in  which  they  discussed  what  was  necessary  for 
their  design  of  returning  to  Senegal,  whether  they  were  to 
kill  all  the  Spaniards,  and  particularly  the  deponent ;  that 
eight  days  after  parting  from  the  coast  of  Nasca,  the  depo 
nent  being  on  the  watch  a  little  after  day-break,  and  soon 
after  the  negroes  had  their  meeting,  the  negro  Babo  came  to 
the  place  where  the  deponent  was,  and  told  him  that  he  had 
determined  to  kill  his  master,  Don  Alexandro  Aranda,  both 
because  he  and  his  companions  could  not  otherwise  be  sure 
of  their  liberty,  and  that  to  keep  the  seamen  in  subjection, 
he  wanted  to  prepare  a  warning  of  what  road  they  should 
be  made  to  take  did  they  or  any  of  them  oppose  him ;  and 
that,  by  means  of  the  death  of  Don  Alexandro,  that  warning 
would  best  be  given  ;  but,  that  what  this  last  meant,  the  de 
ponent  did  not  at  the  time  comprehend,  nor  could  not,  fur 
ther  thfin  tliat  the  death  of  Don  Alexauclro  was  intended  ; 
and  moreover  the  negro  Babo  proposed  to  the  deponent  to 
call  the  mate  Raneds,  who  was  sleeping  in  the  cabin,  before 
the  thing  was  done,  for  fear,  as  the  deponent  understood  it, 
that  the  mate,  who  was  a  good  navigator,  should  be  killed 
with  Don  4-lexandro  and  the  rest ;  that  the  deponent,  who 
was  the  friend,  from  youth,  of  Don  Alexandro,  prayed  and 
conjured,  but  all  was  useless ;  for  the  negro  Babo  answered 


BENITO     CERE  NO.  253 

him  that  the  thing  could  not  be  prevented,  and  that  all  the 
Spaniards  risked  their  death  if  they  should  attempt  to  frus 
trate  his  will  in  this  matter,  or  any  other ;  that,  in  this  con 
flict,  the  deponent  called  the  mate,  Raueds,  who  was  forced 
to  go  apart,  and  immediately  the  negro  Babo  commanded 
the  Ashantee  Martinqui  and  the  Ashantee  Lecbe  to  go  and 
commit  the  murder  ;  that  those  two  went  down  with  hatch 
ets  to  the  berth  of  Don  Alexandro  ;  that,  yet  half  alive  and 
mangled,  they  dragged  him  on  deck  ;  that  they  were  going 
to  throw  him  overboard  in  that  state,  but  the  negro  Babo 
stopped  them,  bidding  the  murder  be  completed  on  the  deck 
before  him,  which  was  done,  when,  by  his  orders,  the  body 
was  carried  below,  forward  ;  that  nothing  more  was  seen  of 
it  by  the  deponent  for  three  days ;  *  *  *  that  Don  Alonzo 
Sidonia,  an  old  man,  long  resident  at  Valparaiso,  and  lately 
appointed  to  a  civil  office  in  Peru,  whither  he  had  taken 
passage,  was  at  the  time  sleeping  in  the  berth  opposite  Don 
Alexandro's  ;  that  awakening  at  his  cries,  surprised  by  them, 
and  at  the  sight  of  the  negroes  with  their  bloody  hatchets  in 
their  hands,  he  threw  himself  into  the  sea  through  a  window 
which  was  near  him,  and  was  drowned,  without  it  being  in 
the  power  of  the  deponent  to  assist  or  take  him  up  ;  *  *  * 
that  a  short  time  after  killing  Aranda,  they  brought  upon 
deck  his  german-cousin,  of  middle-age,  Don  Francisco  Masa, 
of  Mendoza,  and  the  young  Don  Joaquin,  Marques  de  Aram- 
boalaza,  then  lately  from  Spain,  with  his  Spanish  servant 
Ponce,  and  the  three  young  clerks  of  Aranda,  Jose  Mozairi 
Lorenzo  Bargas,  and  Hermenegildo  Gandix,  all  of  Cadiz ; 
that  Don  Joaquin  and  Hermenegiklo  Gandix,  the  negro  Ba 
bo,  for  purposes  hereafter  to  appear,  preserved  alive ;  but 
Don  Francisco  Masa,  Jose  Mozairi,  and  Lorenzo  Bargas, 
with  Ponce  the  servant,  beside  the  boatswain,  Juan  Robles, 
the  boatswain's  mates,  Manuel  Yiscaya  and  Roderigo  Hurta, 
and  four  of  the  sailors,  the  negro  Babo  ordered  to  be  thrown 
alive  into  the  sea,  although  they  macle  no  resistance,  nor 


254  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

begged  for  anything  else  but  mercy ;  that  the  boatswain, 
Juan  Robles,  who  knew  how  to  swim,  kept  the  longest 
above  water,  making  acts  of  contrition,  and,  in  the  last  words 
lie  uttered,  charged  this  deponent  to  cause  mass  to  be  said 
for  his  soul  to  our  Lady  of  Succor :  *  *  *  that,  during  the 
three  days  which  followed,  the  deponent,  uncertain  what  fate 
had  befallen  the  remains  of  Don  Alexandro,  frequently  asked 
the  negro  Babo  where  they  were,  and,  if  still  on  board,  whe 
ther  they  were  to  be  preserved  for  interment  ashore,  entreat- 
inghim  so  to  order  it ;  that  the  negro  Babo  answered  nothing 
till  the  fourth  day,  when  at  sunrise,  the  deponent  coming  on 
deck,  the  negro  Babo  showed  him  a  skeleton,  which  had  been 
substituted  for  the  ship's  proper  figure-head — the  image  of 
Christopher  Colon,  the  discoverer  of  the  New  "World  ;  that 
the  negro  Babo  asked  him  whose  skeleton  that  was,  and 
whether,  from  its  \vhiteness,  he  should  not  think  it  a  white's ; 
that,  upon  discovering  his  face,  the  negro  Babo,  coming 
close,  said  words  to  this  effect :  "  Keep  faith  with  the  blacks 
from  here  to  Senegal,  or  you  shall  in  spirit,  as  now  in  body, 
follow  your  leader,"  pointing  to  the  prow ;  *  *  *  that  the 
same  morning  the  negro  Babo  took  by  succession  each 
Spaniard  forward,  and  asked  him  whose  skeleton  that  was, 
and  whether,  from  its  whiteness,  he  should  not  think  it  a 
white's ;  that  each  Spaniard  covered  his  face ;  that  then  to 
each  the  negro  Babo  repeated  the  words  in  the  first  place 
said  to  the  deponent;  *  *  *  that  they  (the  Spaniards),  be 
ing  then  assembled  aft,  the  negro  Babo  harangued  them, 
saying  that  he  had  now  done  all  ;  that  the  deponent  (as 
navigator  for  the  negroes)  might  pursue  his  course,  warning 
him  and  all  of  them  that  they  should,  soul  and  body,  go  the 
way  of  Don  Alexandro,  if  he  saw  them  (the  Spaniards)  speak 
or  plot  anything  against  them  (the  negroes) — a  threat  which 
was  repeated  every  day  ;  that,  before  the  events  last  men 
tioned,  they  had  tied  the  cook  to  throw  him  overboard,  for 
it  is  not  known  what  thing  they  heard  him  speak,  but  finally 


BENITO    CERE NO.  255 

the  negro  Babo  spared  his  life,  at  the  request  of  the  depo 
nent  ;  that  a  few  days  after,  the  deponent,  endeavoring  not 
to  omit  any  means  to  preserve  the  lives  of  the  remaining 
whites,  spoke  to  the  negroes  peace  and  tranquillity,  and 
agreed  to  draw  up  a  paper,  signed  by  the  deponent  and  the 
sailors  who  could  write,  as  also  by  the  negro  Babo,  for  him 
self  and  all  the  blacks,  in  which  the  deponent  obliged  himself 
to  carry  them  to  Senegal,  and  they  not  to  kill  any  more,  and 
he  formally  to  make  over  to  them  the  ship,  with  the  cargo, 
with  which  they  were  for  that  time  satisfied  and  quieted.  *  * 
But  the  next  day,  the  more  surely  to  guard  against  the 
sailors'  escape,  the  negro  Babo  commanded  all  the  boats  to 
be  destroyed  but  the  long-boat,  which  was  unseaworthy, 
and  another,  a  cutter  in  good  condition,  which  knowing  it 
would  yet  be  wanted  for  towing  the  water  casks,  he  had  it 
lowered  down  into  the  hold. 

•**##**-*#* 

[Various  particulars  of  the  prolonged  and  perplexed 
navigation  ensuing  here  follow,  with  incidents  of  a  cala 
mitous  calm,  from  which  portion  one  passage  is  extracted, 
to  wit :] 

— That  on  the  fifth  day  of  the  calm,  all  on  board  suffering 
much  from  the  heat,  and  want  of  water,  and  five  having  died 
in  fits,  and  mad,  the  negroes  became  irritable,  and  for  a 
chance  gesture,  which  they  deemed  suspicious — though  it 
was  harmless — made  by  the  mate,  Raneds,  to  the  deponent 
in  the  act  of  handing  a  quadrant,  they  killed  him  ;  but  that 
for  this  they  afterwards  were  sorry,  the  mate  being  the  only 
remaining  navigator  on  board,  except  the  deponent. 

•fc-K--£-£-&*-K-&# 

— That  omitting  other  events,  which  daily  happened,  and 
which  can  only  serve  uselessly  to  recall  past  misfortunes  and 
conflicts,  after  seventy-three  days'  navigation,  reckoned  from 
the  time  they  sailed  from  Nasca,  during  which  they  naviga 
ted  under  a  scanty  allowance  of  water,  and  were  afflicted 


256  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

with  the  calms  before  mentioned,  they  at  last  arrived  at  the 
island  of  Santa  Maria,  on  the  seventeenth  of  the  month  of 
August,  at  about  six  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  at  which  hour 
they  cast  anchor  very  near  the  American  ship,  Bachelor's 
Delight,  which  lay  in  the  same  bay,  commanded  by  the  gener 
ous  Captain  Amasa  Delano  ;  but  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
they  had  already  descried  the  port,  and  the  negroes  became 
uneasy,  as  soon  as  at  distance  they  saw  the  ship,  not  having 
expected  to  see  one  there ;  that  the  negro  Babo  pacified 
them,  assuring  them  that  no  fear  need  be  had  ;  that  straight 
way  he  ordered  the  figure  on  the  bow  to  be  covered  with 
canvas,  as  for  repairs,  and  had  the  decks  a  little  set  in  order  ; 
that  for  a  time  the  negro  Babo  and  the  negro  Atufal  con 
ferred  ;  that  the  negro  Atufal  was  for  sailing  away,  but  the 
negro  Babo  would  not,  and,  by  himself,  cast  about  what 
to  do ;  that  at  last  he  came  to  the  deponent,  proposing  to 
him  to  say  and  do  all  that  the  deponent  declares  to  have 
said  and  done  to  the  American  captain  ; 

*  *  *  *  that  the  negro  Babo  warned 
him  that  if  he  varied  in  the  least,  or  uttered  any  word,  or 
gave  any  look  that  should  give  the  least  intimation  of  the 
past  events  or  present  state,  he  would  instantly  kill  him, 
with  all  his  companions,  showing  a  dagger,  which  he  carried 
hid,  saying  something  which,  as  he  understood  it,  meant  that 
that  dagger  would  be  alert  as  his  eye ;  that  the  negro  Babo 
then  announced  the  plan  to  all  his  companions,  which  pleased 
them  ;  that  he  then,  the  better  to  disguise  the  truth,  devised 
many  expedients,  in  some  of  them  uniting  deceit  and  defense  ; 
that  of  this  sort  was  the  device  of  the  six  Ashantees  before 
named,  who  were  his  bravoes  ;  that  them  he  stationed  on  the 
break  of  the  poop,  as  if  to  clean  certain  hatchets  (in  cases, 
which  were  part  of  the  cargo),  but  in  reality  to  use  them, 
and  distribute  them  at  need,  and  at  a  given  word  he  told 
them ;  that,  among  other  devices,  was  the  device  of  present 
ing  Atufal,  his  right  hand  man,  as  chained,  though  in  a  mo- 


B  ENITO     CERENO.  257 

ment  the  chains  could  be  dropped  ;  that  in  every  particular 
he  informed  the  deponent  what  part  he  was  expected  to  en 
act  in  every  device,  and  what  story  he  was  to  tell  on  every 
occasion,  always  threatening  him  with  instant  death  if  he 
varied  in  the  least :  that,  conscious  that  many  of  the  negroes 
would  be  turbulent,  the  negro  Babo  appointed  the  four  aged 
negroes,  who  were  calkers,  to  keep  what  domestic  order  they 
could  on  the  decks  ;  that  again  and  again  he  harangued 
the  Spaniards  and  his  companions,  informing  them  of  his 
intent,  and  of  his  devices,  and  of  the  invented  story  that  this 
deponent  was  to  tell ;  charging  them  lest  any  of  them  varied 
from  that  story;  that  these  arrangements  were  made  and 
matured  during  the  interval  of  two  or  three  hours,  between 
their  first  sighting  the  ship  and  the  arrival  on  board  of  Cap 
tain  Amasa  Delano;  that  this  happened  about  half-past 
seven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  Captain  Amasa  Delano  com 
ing  in  his  boat,  and  all  gladly  receiving  him  ;  that  the  depo 
nent,  as  wrell  as  he  could  force  himself,  acting  then  the  part 
of  principal  owner,  and  a  free  captain  of  the  ship,  told  Cap 
tain  Amasa  Delano,  when  called  upon,  that  he  came  from 
Buenos  Ayres,  bound  to  Lima,  with  three  hundred  negroes  ; 
that  off  Cape  Horn,  and  in  a  subsequent  fever,  many  negroes 
had  died  ;  that  also,  by  similar  casualties,  all  the  sea  officers 
and  the  greatest  part  of  the  crew  had  died. 

•*•**#•*##•*# 

[And  so  the  deposition  goes  on,  circumstantially  recounting 
the  fictitious  story  dictated  to  the  deponent  by  Babo,  and  through 
the  deponent  imposed  upon  Captain  Delano  ;  and  also  recount 
ing  the  friendly  offers  of  Captain  Delano,  with  other  things, 
but  all  of  which  is  here  omitted.  'After  the  fictitious  story,  etc. 
the  deposition  proceeds :] 

•K***-***-** 

— that  the  generous  Captain  Amasa  Delano  remained  on 
board  all  the  day,  till  he  left  the  ship  anchored  at  six  o'clock 
in  the  evening,  deponent  speaking  to  him  always  of  his  pre- 


258  THE      PIAZZA      TALES. 

tended  misfortunes,  under  the  fore-mentioned  principles,  with 
out  having  had  it  in  his  power  to  tell  a  single  word,  or  give 
him  the  least  hint,  that  he  might  know  the  truth  and  state  of 
things  ;  because  the  negro  Babo,  performing  the  office  of  an 
officious  servant  with  all  the  appearance  of  submission  of  the 
humble  slave,  did  not  leave  the  deponent  one  moment ;  that 
this  was  in  order  to  observe  the  deponent's  actions  and 
words,  for  the  negro  Babo  understands  well  the  Spanish ; 
and  besides,  there  were  thereabout  some  others  who  were 
constantly  on  the  watch,  and  likewise  understood  the  Spanish ; 
*  *  *  that  upon  one  occasion,  while  deponent  was 
standing  on  the  deck  conversing  with  Amasa  Delano,  by  a 
secret  sign  the  negro  Babo  drew  him  (the  deponent)  aside, 
the  act  appearing  as  if  originating  with  the  deponent ;  that 
then,  he  being  drawn  aside,  the  negro  Babo  proposed  to  him 
to  gain  from  Amasa  Delano  full  particulars  about  his  ship, 
and  crew,  and  arms  ;  that  the  deponent  asked  "  For  what  ?" 
that  the  negro  Babo  answered  he  might  conceive;  that, 
grieved  at  the  prospect  of  what  might  overtake  the  generous 
Captain  Amasa  Delano,  the  deponent  at  first  refused  to  ask 
the  desired  questions,  and  used  every  argument  to  induce  the 
negro  Babo  to  give  up  this  new  design  ;  that  the  negro  Babo 
showed  the  point  of  his  dagger  ;  that,  after  the  information 
had  been  obtained  the  negro  Babo  again  drew  him  aside, 
telling  him  that  that  very  night  he  (the  deponent)  would  be 
captain  of  two  ships,  instead  of  one,  for  that,  great  part  of 
the  American's  ship's  crew  being  to  be  absent  fishing,  the 
six  Ashantees,  without  any  one  else,  would  easily  take  it  ; 
that  at  this  time  he  said  other  things  to  the  same  purpose  ; 
that  no  entreaties  availed  ;  that,  before  Amasa  Delano's 
coming  on  board,  no  hint  had  been  given  touching  the  cap 
ture  of  the  American  ship  :  that  to  prevent  this  project  the 
deponent  was  powerless ;  *  *  *  — that  in  some  things  his 
memory  is  confused,  he  cannot  distinctly  recall  every  event ; 
*  *  *  — that  as  soon  as  they  had  cast  anchor  at  six  of  the 


BENITO     CERENO.  259 

clock  in  the  evening,  as  has  before  been  stated,  the  American 
Captain  took  leave,  to  return  to  his  vessel ;  that  upon  a 
sudden  impulse,  which  the  deponent  believes  to  have  come 
from  God  and  his  angels,  he,  after  the  farewell  had  been  said, 
followed  the  generous  Captain  Amasa  Delano  as  far  as  the 
gunwale,  where  he  stayed,  under  pretense  of  taking  leave, 
until  Amasa  Delano  should  have  been  seated  in  his  boat ; 
that  on  shoving  off,  the  deponent  sprang  from  the  gunwale 
into  the  boat,  and  fell  into  it,  he  knows  not  how,  God  guard 
ing  him  ;  thaf — 

•H-***-***** 

[Here,  in  the  original,  follows  the  account  of  what  further 
happened  at  the  escape,  and  how  the  San  Dominick  was  retaken, 
and  of  the  passage  to  the  coast  ;  including  in  the  recital  many 
expressions  of  "  eternal  gratitude"  to  the  "generous  Captain 
Amasa  Delano."  The  deposition  then  proceeds  with  recapi 
tulatory  remarks,  and  a  partial  renumeration  of  the  negroes, 
making  record  of  their  individual  part  in  the  past  events,  with 
a  view  to  furnishing,  according  to  command  of  the  court,  the 
data  whereon  to  found  the  criminal  sentences  to  be  pronounced. 
From  this  portion  is  the  following ;] 

— That  he  believes  that  all  the  negroes,  though  not  in  the 
first  place  knowing  to  the  design  of  revolt,  when  it  was  ac 
complished,  approved  it.  *  *  *  That  the  negro,  Jose, 
eighteen  years  old,  and  in  the  personal  service  of  Don  Alex- 
andro,  was  the  one  who  communicated  the  information  to  the 
negro  Babo,  about  the  state  of  things  in  the  cabin,  before 
the  revolt ;  that  this  is  known,  because,  in  the  preceding  mid 
night,  he  use  to  come  from  his  berth,  which  was  under  his 
master's,  in  the  cabin,  to  the  deck  where  the  ringleader  and 
his  associates  were,  and  had  secret  conversations  with  the 
negro  Babo,  in  which  he  was  several  times  seen  by  the  mate  ; 
that,  one  night,  the  mate  drove  him  away  twice  ;  *  *  that 
this  same  negro  Jose  was  the  one  who,  without  being  com 
manded  to  do  so  by  the  negro  Babo,  as  Lecbc  and  Martinqui 


THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

were,  stabbed  his  master,  Don  Alexandra-,  after  he  had  been 
dragged  half-lifeless  to  the  deck  ;  *  *  that  the  mulatto  stew 
ard,  Francesco,  was  of  the  first  band  of  revolters,  that  he 
was,  in  all  things,  the  creature  and  tool  of  the  negro  Babo  ; 
that,  to  make  his  court,  he,  just  before  a  repast  in  the  cabin, 
proposed,  to  the  negro  Babo,  poisoning  a  dish  for  the  gener 
ous  Captain  Amasa  Delano  ;  this  is  known  and  believed,  be 
cause  the  negroes  have  said  it ;  but  that  the  negro  Babo, 
having  another  design,  forbade  Francesco ;  *  *  that  the 
Ashantee  Lecbe  was  one  of  the  worst  of  them  ;  for  that,  on 
the  day  the  ship  was  retaken,  he  assisted  in  the  defense  of 
her,  with  a  hatchet  in  each  hand,  with  one  of  which  he 
wounded,  in  the  breast,  the  chief  mate  of  Amasa  Delano,  in 
the  first  act  of  boarding  ;  this  all  knew  ;  tffat,  in  sight  of 
the  deponent,  Lecbe  struck,  with  a  hatchet,  Don  Francisco 
Masa,  when,  by  the  negro  Babo's  orders,  he  was  carrying  him 
to  throw  him  overboard,  alive,  beside  participating  in  the 
murder,  before  mentioned,  of  Don  Alexandro  Aranda,  and 
others  of  the  cabin-passengers  ;  that,  owing  to  the  fury  with 
which  the  Ashantees  fought  in  the  engagement  with  the 
boats,  but  this  Lecbe  and  Yan  survived  ;  that  Yan  was  bad 
as  Lecbe  ;  that  Yan  was  the  man  who,  by  Babo's  command, 
willingly  prepared  the  skeleton  of  Don  Alexandro,  in  a  way 
the  negroes  afterwards  told  the  deponent,  but  which  he,  so 
long  as  reason  is  left  him,  can  never  divulge  ;  that  Yan  and 
Lecbe  were  the  two  who.  in  a  calm  by  night,  riveted  the 
skeleton  to  the  bow  ;  this  also  the  negroes  told  him  ;  that  the 
negro  Babo  was  he  who  traced  the  inscription  below  it ;  that 
the  negro  Babo  was  the  plotter  from  first  to  last ;  he  ordered 
every  murder,  and  was  the  helm  and  keel  of  the  revolt ;  that 
Atufal  was  his  lieutenant  in  all ;  but  Atufal,  with  his  own 
hand,  committed  no  murder  ;  nor  did  the  negro  Babo  ;  *  * 
that  Atufal  was  shot,  being  killed  in  the  fight  with  the  boats, 
ere  boarding  ;  *  *  that  the  negresses,  of  age,  were  knowing 
to  the  revolt,  and  testified  themselves  satisfied  at  the  death 


BENITO     CERENO.  261 

of  their  master,  Don  Alexandra  ;  that,  had  the  negroes  not 
restrained  them,  they  would  have  tortured  to  djsath,  instead 
of  simply  killing,  the  Spaniards  slain  by  command  of  the 
negro  Babo  ;  that  the  negresses  used  their  utmost  influence 
to  have  the  deponent  made  away  with  ;  that,  in  the  various 
acts  of  murder,  they  sang  songs  and  danced — not  gaily,  but 
solemnly  ;  and  before  the  engagement  with  the  boats,  as  well 
as  during  the  action,  they  sang  melancholy  songs  to  the 
negroes,  and  that  this  melancholy  tone  was  more  inflaming 
than  a  different  one  would  have  been,  and  was  so  intended  ; 
that  all  this  is  believed,  because  the  negroes  have  said  it. 
— that  of  the  thirty-six  men  of  the  crew,  exclusive  of  the  pas 
sengers  (all  of  whom  are  now  dead),  which  the  deponent 
had  knowledge  of,  six  only  remained  alive,  with  four  cabin- 
boys  and  ship-boys,  not  included  with  the  crew  ;  *  *  — that 
the  negroes  broke  an  arm  of  one  of  the  cabin-boys  and  gave 
him  strokes  with  hatchets. 

[  Then  follow  various  random  disclosures  referring  to  various 
periods  of  time.     The  following  are  extracted;] 

— That  during  the  presence  of  Captain  Amasa  Delano  on 
board,  some  attempts  were  made  by  the  sailors,  and  one  by 
Hermenegildo  Gandix,  to  convey  hints  to  him  of  the  true 
state  of  affairs  ;  but  that  these  attempts  were  ineffectual, 
owing  to  fear  of  incurring  death,  and,  futhermore,  owing  to 
the  devices  which  offered  contradictions  to  the  true  state 
of  affairs,  as  well  as  owing  to  the  generosity  and  piety 
of  Amasa  Delano  incapable  of  sounding  such  wickedness  ;  * 
*  *  that  Luys  Galgo,  a  sailor  about  sixty  years  of  age,  and 
formerly  of  the  king's  navy,  was  one  of  those  who  sought  to 
convey  tokens  to  Captain  Ainasa  Delano  ;  but  his  intent, 
though  undiscovered,  being  suspected,  he  was,  on  a  pretense, 
made  to  retire  out  of  sight,  and  at  last  into  the  hold,  and 
there  was  made  away  with.  This  the  negroes  have  since 
said  j  *  *  *  that  one  of  the  ship-boys  feeling,  from  Captain 


262  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

Amasa  Delano's  presence,  some  hopes  of  release,  and  not 
having  enough  prudence,  dropped  some  chance- word  respect 
ing  his  expectations,  which  being  overheard  and  understood 
by  a  slave-boy  with  whom  he  was  eating  at  the  time,  the 
latter  struck  him  on  the  head  with  a  knife,  inflicting  a  bad 
wound,  but  of  which  the  boy  is  now  healing  ;  that  likewise, 
not  long  before  the  ship  was  brought  to  anchor,  one  of  the 
seamen,  steering  at  the  time,  endangered  himself  by  letting 
the  blacks  remark  some  expression  in  his  countenance,  arising 
from  a  cause  similar  to  the  above  ;  bjut  this  sailor,  by  his 
heedful  after  conduct,  escaped  ;  *  *  *  that  these  statements 
are  made  to  show  the  court  that  from  the  beginning  to  the  end 
of  the  revolt,  it  was  impossible  for  the  deponent  and  his  men 
to  act  otherwise  than  they  did  ;  *  *  * — that  the  third  clerk, 
Hermenegildo  Gandix,  who  before  had  been  forced  to  live 
among  the  seamen,  wearing  a  seaman's  habit,  and  in  all 
respects  appearing  to  be  one  for  the  time;  he,  Gandix,  was 
killed  by  a  musket  ball  fired  through  mistake  from  the  boats 
before  boarding  ;  having  in  his  fright  run  up  the  mizzen- 
rigging,  calling  to  the  boats — "  don't  board,"  lest  upon  their 
boarding  the  negroes  should  kill  him  ;  that  this  inducing  the 
Americans  to  believe  he  someway  favored  the  cause  of  the  ne 
groes,  they  fired  two  balls  at  him,  so  that  he  fell  wounded  from 
the  rigging,  and  was  drowned  in  the  sea ;  *  *  * — that  the 
young  Don  Joaquin,  Marques  de  Aramboalaza,  like  Herme 
negildo  Gandix,  the  third  clerk,  was  degraded  to  the  office 
and  appearance  of  a  common  seaman  ;  that  upon  one  occasion 
when  Don  Joaquin  shrank,  the  negro  Babo  commanded  the 
Ashantee  Lecbe  to  take  tar  and  heat  it,  and  pour  it  upon  Don 
Joaquin's  hands  ;  *  *  *  —that  Don  Joaquin  was  killed  owing 
to  another  mistake  of  the  Americans,  but  one  impossible  to  be 
avoided,  as  upon  the  approach  of  the  boats,  Don  Joaquin,  with 
a  hatchet  tied  edge  out  and  upright  to  his  hand,  was  made  by 
the  negroes  to  appear  on  the  bulwarks  ;  whereupon,  seen  with 
arms  in  his  hands  and  in  a  questionable  attitude,  he  was  shot 


BEN  IT  O     CERE NO.  263 

for  a  renegade  seaman  ;  *  *  *  — that  on  the  person  of  Don 
Joaquin  was  found  secreted  a  jewel,  which,  by  papers  that 
were  discovered,  proved  to  have  been  meant  for  the  shrine  of 
our  Lady  of  Mercy  in  Lima  ;  a  votive  offering,  beforehand 
prepared  and  guarded,  to  attest  his  gratitude,  when  he  should 
have  landed  in  Peru,  his  last  destination,  for  the  safe  con 
clusion  of  his  entire  voyage  from  Spain ;  *  *  *  — that  the 
jewel,  with  the  other  effects  of  the  late  Don  Joaquin,  is  in 
the  custody  of  the  brethren  of  the  Hospital  de  Sacerdotes, 
awaiting  the  disposition  of  the  honorable  court ;  *  *  * 
— that,  owing  to  the  condition  of  the  deponent,  as  weU  as  the 
haste  in  which  the  boats  departed  for  the  attack,  the  Ameri 
cans  were  not  forewarned  that  there  were,  among  the  ap 
parent  crew,  a  passenger  and  one  of  the  clerks  disguised  by 
the  negro  Babo  ;  *  *  *  — that,  beside  the  negroes  killed  in 
the  action,  some  were  killed  after  the  capture  and  re-anchor 
ing  at  night,  when  shackled  to  the  ring-bolts  on  deck  ;  that 
these  deaths  were  committed  by  the  sailors,  ere  they  could  be 
prevented.  That  so  soon  as  informed  of  it,  Captain  Amasa 
Delano  used  all  his  authority,  and,  in  particular  with  his  own 
hand,  struck  down  Martinez  Gola,  who,  having  found  a  razor 
in  the  pocket  of  an  old  jacket  of  his,  which  one  of  the  shack 
led  negroes  had  on,  was  aiming  it  at  the  negro's  throat ;  that 
the  noble  Captain  Amasa  Delano  also  wrenched  from  the 
hand  of  Bartholomew  Barlo  a  dagger,  secreted  at  the  time 
of  the  massacre  of  the  whites,  with  which  he  was  in  the  act 
of  stabbing  a  shackled  negro,  who,  the  same  day,  with  another 
negro,  had  thrown  him  down  and  jumped  upon  him  ;  *  *  * 
— that,  for  all  the  events,  befalling  through  so  long  a  time, 
during  which  the  ship  was  in  the  hands  of  the  negro  Babo, 
he  cannot  here  give  account ;  but  that,  what  he  has  said  is 
the  most  substantial  of  what  occurs  to  him  at  present,  aiid  is 
the  truth  under  the  oath  which  he  has  taken  ;  which  declara 
tion  he  affirmed  and  ratified,  after  hearing  it  read  to  him. 
He  said  that  he  is  twenty-nine  years  of  age,  and  broken  in 


£64  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

body  and  mind  ;  that  when  finally  dismissed  by  the  court,  he 
shall  not  return  home  to  Chili,  but  betake  himself  to  the 
monastery  on  Mount  Agonia  without. ;  and  signed  with  his 
honor,  and  crossed  himself,  and,  for  the  time,  departed  as  he 
came,  in  his  litter,  with  the  monk  Infelez,  to  the  Hospital  de 
Sacerdotes.  BENITO  CERENO. 

DOCTOR  ROZAS. 

If  the  Deposition  have  served  as  the  key  to  fit 
into  ;the  lock  of  the  complications  which  precede 
it,  then,  as  a  vault  whose  door  "has  been  flung 
back,  the  San  Dominick's  hull  lies  open  to 
day. 

Hitherto  the  nature  of  this  narrative,  besides 
rendering  the  intricacies  in  the  beginning  un 
avoidable,  has  more  or  less  required  that  many 
things,  instead  of  being  set  down  in  the  order 
of  occurrence,  should  be  retrospectively,  or 
irregularly  given  ;  this  last  is  the  case  with  the 
following  passages,  which  will  conclude  the 
account : 

During  the  long,  mild  voyage  to  Lima,  there 
was,  as  before  hinted,  a  period  during  which 
the  sufferer  a  little  recovered  his  health,  or,  at 
least  in  some  degree,  his  tranquillity.  Ere  the 
decided  relapse  which  came,  the  two  captains 
had  many  cordial  conversations — their  fraternal 


BENITO     CERENO.  265 

unreserve    in    singular    contrast   with   former 
withdrawments.  . 

Again  and  again  it  was  repeated,  how  hard 
it  had  been  to  enact  the  part  forced  on  the 
Spaniard  by  Babo. 

u  Ah,  my  dear  friend,"  Don  Benito  once 
said,  "  at  those  very  times  when  you  thought 
me  so  morose  and  ungrateful,  nay,  when,  as 
you  now  admit,  you  half  thought  me  plotting 
your  murder,  at  those  very  times  my  heart  was 
frozen  ;  I  could  not  look  at  you,  thinking  of 
what,  both  on  board  this  ship  and  your  own, 
hung,  from  other  hands,  over  my  kind  bene 
factor.  And  as  God  lives,  Don  Amasa,  I  know 
not  whether  desire  for  my  own  safety  alone 
could  have  nerved  me  to  that  leap  into  your 
boat,  had  it  not  been  for  the  thought  that,  did 
you,  unenlightened,  return  to  your  ship,  you, 
my  best  friend,  with  all  who  might  be  with 
you,  stolen  upon,  that  night,  in  your  ham 
mocks,  would  never  in  this  world  have  waken 
ed  again.  Do  but  think  how  you  walked  this 
deck,  how  you  sat  in  this  cabin,  every  inch  of 
ground  mined  into  honey-combs  under  you. 

Had  I  dropped  the  least  hint,  made  the  least 
12 


266  THE     PIAZZA    TALES. 

advance  towards  an  understanding,  bet  ween  us, 
death,  explosive  death — yours  as  mine — would 
have  ended  the  scene." 

"  True,  true,"  cried  Captain  Delano,  start 
ing,  "you  have  saved  my  life,  Don  Benito, 
more  than  I  yours ;  saved  it,  too,  against  my 
knowledge  and  will." 

"Nay,  my  friend,"  rejoined  the  Spaniard, 
courteous  even  to  the  point  of  religion,  "  God 
charmed  your  life,  but  you  saved  mine.  To 
think  of  some  things  you  did — those  smilings 
and  chattings,  rash  pointings  and  gesturings. 
For  less  than  these,  they  slew  my  mate,  Ra- 
neds ;  but  you  had  the  Prince  of  Heaven's  safe- 
conduct  through  all  ambuscades." 

"  Yes,  all  is  owing  to  Providence,  I  know  : 
but  the  temper  of  my  mind  that  morning  was 
more  than  commonly  pleasant,  while  the  sight 
of  so  much  suffering,  more  apparent  than  real, 
added  to  my  good-nature,  compassion,  and 
charity,  happily  interweaving  the  three.  Had 
it  been  otherwise,  doubtless,  as  you  hint,  some 
of  my  interferences  might  have  ended  unhap 
pily  enough.  Besides,  those  feelings  I  spoke 
of  enabled  me  to  get  the  better  of  momentary 


BENITO     CERENO.  267 

distrust,  at  times  when  acuteness  might  have 
cost  me  my  life,  without  saving  another's. 
Only  at  the  end  did  my  suspicions  get  the  bet 
ter  of  me,  and  you  know  how  wide  of  the  mark 
they  then  proved.'-' 

"  Wide,  indeed,"  said  Don  Benito,  sadly ; 
•'  you  were  with  me  all  day ;  stood  with  me, 
sat  with  me,  talked  with  me,  looked  at  me,  ate 
with  me,  drank  with  me ;  and  yet,  your  last 
act  was  to  clutch  for  a  monster,  not  only  an 
innocent  man,  but  the  most  pitiable  of  all  men. 
To  such  degree  may  malign  machinations  and 
deceptions  impose.  So  far  may  even  the  best 
man  err,  in  judging  the  conduct  of  one  with 
the  recesses  of  whose  condition  he  is  -not  ac 
quainted.  But  you  were  forced  to  it ;  and  you 
were  in  time  undeceived.  Would  that,  in 
both  respects,  it  was  so  ever,  and  with  all 
men." 

"  You  generalize,  Don  Benito  ;  and  mourn 
fully  enough.  But  the  past  is  passed ;  why 
moralize  upon  it?  Forget  it.  See,  yon 
bright  sun  has  forgotten  it  all,  and  the  blue 
sea,  and  the  blue  sky  ;  these  have  turned  over 
new  leaves." 


THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

"  Because  they  have  no  memory,"  he  de 
jectedly  replied ;  "  because  they  are  not  hu 
man." 

"  But  these  mild  trades  that  now  fan  your 
cheek,  do  they  not  come  with  a  human-like 
healing  to  you?  Warm  friends,  steadfast 
friends  are  the  trades." 

"  With  their  steadfastness  they  but  waft 
me  to  my  tomb,  Seiior,"  was  the  foreboding 
response. 

"  You  are  saved,"  cried  Captain  Delano, 
more  and  more  astonished  and  pained ;  "  you 
are  saved  :  what  has  cast  such  a  shadow  upon 
you?" 

"  The  negro." 

There  was  silence,  while  the  moody  man 
sat,  slowly  and  unconsciously  gathering  his 
mantle  about  him,  as  if  it  were  a  pall. 

There  was  no  more  conversation  that  day. 

But  if  the  Spaniard's  melancholy  sometimes 
ended  in  muteness  upon  topics  like  the  above, 
there  were  others  upon  which  he  never  spoke 
at  all;  on  which,  indeed,  all  his  old  reserves 
were  piled.  Pass  over  the  worst,  and,  only  to 
elucidate,  let  an  item  or  two  of  these  be  cited. 


BE NIT O     CERENO.  269 

The  dress,  so  precise  and  costly,  worn  by  him 
on  the  day  whose  events  have  been  narrated, 
had  not  willingly  been  put  on.  And  that 
silver-mounted  sword,  apparent  symbol  of  des 
potic  command,  was  not,  indeed,  a  sword,  but 
the  ghost  of  one.  The  scabbard,  artificially 
stiffened,  was  empty. 

As  for  the  black — whose  brain,  not  body, 
had  schemed  and  led  the  revolt,  with  the  plot 
— his  slight  frame,  inadequate  to  that  which  it 
held,  had  at  once  yielded  to  the  superior- mus 
cular  strength  of  his  captor,  in  the  boat.  See 
ing  all  was  over,  he  uttered  no  sound,  and 
could  not  be  forced  to.  His  aspect  seemed  to 
say,  since  I  cannot  do  deeds,  I  will  not  speak 
words.  Put  in  irons  in  the  hold,  with  the  rest, 
he  was  carried  to  Lima.  During  the  passage, 
Don  Benito  did  not  visit  him.  Nor  then,  nor 
at  any  time  after,  would  he  look  at  him.  Be 
fore  the  tribunal  he  refused.  When  pressed 
by  the  judges  he  fainted.  On  the  testimony 
of  the  sailors  alone  rested  the  legal  identity  of 
Babo. 

Some  months  after,  dragged  to  the  gibbet  at 
the  tail  of  a  mule,  the  black  met  his  voiceless 


270  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

end.  The  body  was  burned  to  ashes ;  but  for 
many  days,  the  head,  that  hive  of  subtlety, 
fixed  on  a  pole  in  the  Plaza,  met,  unabashed, 
the  gaze  of  the  whites ;  and  across  the  Plaza 
looked  towards  St.  Bartholomew's  church,  in 
whose  vaults  slept  then,  as  now,  the  recovered 
bones  of  Aranda :  and  across  the  Rimac  bridge 
looked  towards  the  monastery,  on  Mount  Ago- 
nia  without ;  where,  three  months  after  being 
dismissed  by  the  court,  Benito  Cereno,  borne 
on  the  bier,  did,  indeed,  follow  his  leader. 


THE   LIGHTNING-ROD   MAN, 

WHAT  grand  irregular  thunder,  thought  I, 
standing  on  my  hearth-stone  among  the  Acro- 
ceraunian  hills,  as  the  scattered  bolts  boomed 
overhead,  and  crashed  down  among  the  valleys, 
every  bolt  followed  by  zigzag  irradiations,  and 
swift  slants  of  sharp  rain,  which  audibly  rang, 
like  a  charge  of  spear-points,  on  my  low  shin 
gled  roof.  I  suppose,  though,  that  the  moun 
tains  hereabouts  break  and  churn  up  the 
thunder,  so  that  it  is  far  more  glorious  here 
than  on  the  plain.  Hark ! — some  one  at  the 
door.  Who  is  this  that  chooses  a  time  of 
thunder  for  making  calls?  And  why  don't  he, 
man-fashion,  use  the  knocker,  instead  of  mak 
ing  that  doleful  undertaker's  clatter  with  his 
fist  against  the  hollow  panel  ?  But  let  him  in. 
Ah,  here  he  comes.  "  Good  day,  sir :"  an  en 
tire  stranger.  "  Pray  be  seated."  What  is 
that  strange-looking  walking-stick  he  carries  : 
"A  fine  thunder-storm,  sir." 

"Fine?— Awful!" 


272  THE    PIAZZA     TALES. 

"  You  are  wet.     Stand  here  on  the  hearth 
before  the  fire." 

"Not  for  worlds!" 

The  stranger  still  stood  in  the  exact  middle 
of  the  cottage,  where  he  had  first  planted 
himself.  His  singularity  impelled  a  closer 
scrutiny.  A  lean,  gloomy  figure.  Hair  dark 
and  lank,  mattedly  streaked  over  his  brow. 
His  sunken  pitfalls  of  eyes  were  ringed  by 
indigo  halos,  and  played  with  an  innocuous 
sort  of  lightning :  the  gleam  without  the  bolt. 
The  whole  man  was  dripping.  He  stood  in  a 
puddle  on  the  bare  oak  floor :  his  strange 
walking-stick  vertically  resting  at  his  side. 

It  was  a  polished  copper  rod,  four  feet  long, 
lengthwise  attached  to  a  neat  wooden  staff,  by 
insertion  into  two  balls  of  greenish  glass,  ringed 
with  copper  bands.  The  metal  rod  terminated 
at  the  top  tripodwise,  in  three  keen  tines, 
brightly  gilt.  He  held  the  thing  by  the  wood 
en  part  alone. 

"  Sir,"  said  I,  bowing  politely,  "  have  I  the 
honor  of  a  visit  from  that  illustrious  god,  Jupi 
ter  Tonans  ?  So  stood  he  in  the  Greek  statue 
of  old,  grasping  the  lightning-bolt.  If  you  be 


THE     LIGHTNING-KOD     MAN.  273 

he,  or  his  viceroy,  I  have  to  thank  you  for  this 
noble  storm  you  have  brewed  among  our  moun 
tains.  Listen  :  That  was  a  glorious  peal.  Ah, 
to  a  lover  of  the  majestic,  it  is  a  good  thing  to 
have  the  Thunderer  himself  in  one's  cottage. 
The  thunder  grows  finer  for  that.  But  pray  be 
seated.  This  old  rush-bottomed  arm-chair,  I 
grant,  is  a  poor  substitute  for  your  evergreen 
throne  on  Olympus ;  but,  condescend  to  be 
seated." 

While  I  thus  pleasantly  spoke,  the  stranger 
eyed  me,  half  in  wonder,  and  half  in  a  strange 
sort  of  horror  ;  but  did  not  move  a  foot. 

"  Do,  sir,  be  seated  ;  you  need  to  be  dried 
ere  going  forth  again." 

I  planted  the  chair  invitingly  on  the  broad 
hearth,  where  a  little  fire  had  been  kindled  that 
afternoon  to  dissipate  the  dampness,  not  the 
cold  ;  for  it  was  early  in  the  month  of  Sep 
tember. 

But  without  heeding  my  solicitation,  and 
still  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  the 
stranger  gazed  at  me  portentously  and  spoke. 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  "  excuse  me  ;  but  instead  of 

my  accepting  your  invitation  to  be  seated  on 
12* 


274  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

the  hearth  there,  I  solemnly  warn  you,  that  you 
had  best  accept  mine,  and  stand  with  me  in  the 
middle  of  the  room.  Good  heavens  !"  he  cried, 
starting  —  "there  is  another  of  those  awful 
crashes.  I  warn  you,  sir,  quit  the  hearth." 

"  Mr.  Jupiter  Tonans,"  said  I,  quietly 
rolling  my  body  on  the  stone,  "  I  stand  very 
well  here." 

"  Are  you  so  horridly  ignorant,  then,"  he 
cried,  "  as  not  to  know,  that  by  far  the  most 
dangerous  part  of  a  house,  during  such  a  terrific 
tempest  as  this,  is  the  fire-place  ?" 

"  Nay,  I  did  not  know  that,"  involuntarily 
stepping  upon  the  first  board  next  to  the 
stone. 

The  stranger  now  assumed  such  an  unpleas 
ant  air  of  successful  admonition,  that — quite 
involuntarily  again — I  stepped  back  upon  the 
hearth,  and  threw  myself  into  the  erectest, 
proudest  posture  I  could  command.  But  I  said 
nothing. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,"  he  cried,  with  a 
strange  mixture  of  alarm  and  intimidation — 
"  for  Heaven's  sake,  get  off  the  hearth  !  Know 
you  not,  that  the  heated  air  and  soot  are  con 


THE    LIGHTNING-POD     MAN.  275 

ductors  ; — to  say  nothing  of  those  immense  iron 
fire-dogs  ?  Quit  the  spot — -I  conjure — I  com 
mand  you." 

"  Mr.  Jupiter  Tonans,  I  am  not  accustomed 
to  be  commanded  in  my  own  house." 

"  Call  me  not  by  that  pagan  name.  You  are 
profane  in  this  time  of  terror." 

"  Sir,  will  you  be  so  good  as  to  tell  me  your 
business  ?  If  you  seek  shelter  from  the  storm, 
you  are  welcome,  so  long  as  you  be  civil ;  but 
if  you  come  on  business,  open  it  forthwith. 
Who  are  you?" 

"I  am  a  dealer  in  lightning-rods,"  said  the 
stranger,  softening  his  tone ;  "  my  special 

business  is Merciful  heaven  !  what 

a  crash! — Have  you  ever  been  struck— your 
premises,  I  mean  ?  No  ?  It's  best  to  be  pror 
vided  ;"  —  significantly  rattling  his  metallic 
staff  on  the  floor ; — •"  by  nature,  there  are  no 
castles  in  thunder-storms ;  yet,  say  but  the 
word,  arid  of  this  cottage  I  can  make  a  Gibral 
tar  by  a  few  waves  of  this  wand.  Hark,  what 
Himalayas  of  concussions!" 

"  You  interrupted  yourself;  your  special 
business  you  were  about  to  speak  of." 


276  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

"  My  special  business  is  to  travel  the  country 
for  orders  for  lightning-rods.  This  is  my  speci 
men-rod;"  tapping  his  staff;  "I  have  tli$  best 
of  references" — fumbling  in  his  pockets.  "  In 
Criggan  last  month,  I  put  up  three-and-twenty 
rods  on  only  five  buildings." 

"  Let  me  see.  Was  it  not  at  Criggan  last 
week,  about  midnight  on  Saturday,  that  the 
steeple,  the  big  elm,  and  the  assembly-room 
cupola  were  struck  ?  Any  of  your  rods  there  ?" 

"  Not  on  the  tree"  and  cupola,  but  the 
steeple." 

"  Of  what  use  is  your  rod,  then  ?" 

"  Of  life-and-death  use.  But  my  workman 
was  heedless.  In  fitting  the  rod  at  top  to  the 
steeple,  he  allowed  a  part  of  the  metal  to  graze 
the  tin  sheeting.  Hence  the  accident.  Not 
my  fault,  but  his.  Hark  !" 

"  Never  mind.  That  clap  burst  quite  loud 
enough  to  be  heard  without  finger-pointing. 
Did  you  hear  of  the  event  at  Montreal  last 
year?  A  servant  girl  struck  at  her  bed-side 
with  a  rosary  in  her  hand ;  the  beads  being 
metal.  Does  your  beat  extend  into  the  Gana- 
das?" 


I 


THE     LIGHTNING-ROD     MAN.  277 

"  No.  And  I  hear  that  there,  iron  rods  only 
are  in  use.  They  should  have  mint,  which  are 
copper.  Iron  is  easily  fused.  Then  they  draw 
out  the  rod  so  slender,  that  it  has  not  body 
enough  to  conduct  the  full  electric  current. 
The  metal  melts  ;  the  building  is  destroyed. 
My  copper  rods  never  act  so.  Those  Canadians 
are  fools.  Some  of  them  knob  the  rod  at  the 
top,  which  risks  a  deadly  explosion,  instead  of 
imperceptibly  carrying  down  the  current  into 
the  earth,  as  this  sort  of  rod  does.  Mine  is  the 
only  true  rod.  Look  at  it.  Only  one  dollar  a 
foot." 

"  This  abuse  of  your  own  calling  in  another 
might  make  one  distrustful  with  respect  to 
yourself." 

"  Hark !  The  thunder  becomes  less  mut 
tering.  It  is  nearing  us,  and  nearing  the  earth, 
too.  Hark !  One  crammed  crash !  All  the 
vibrations  made  one  by  nearness.  Another 
flash.  Hold !" 

"  What  do  you  ?"  I  said,  seeing  him  now, 
instantaneously  relinquishing  his  staff,  lean  in- 
tentty  forward  towards  the  window,  with  hia 
right  fore  and  middle  fingers  on  his  left  wrist. 


278  .         THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

But  ere  the  words  had  well  escaped  me,  an 
other  exclamation  escaped  him. 

"  Crash  !  only  three  pulses  —  less  than  a 
third  of  a  mile  off — yonder,  somewhere  in  that 
wood.  I  passed  three  stricken  oaks  there, 
ripped  out  new  and  glittering.  The  oak  draws 
lightning  more  than  other  timber,  having  iron 
in  solution  in  its  sap.  Your  floor  here  seems  oak. 

"  Heart-of-oak.  From  the  peculiar  time  of 
your  call  upon  me,  I  suppose  you  purposely 
select  stormy  weather  for  your  journeys. 
When  the  thunder  is  roaring,  you  deem  it  an 
hour  peculiarly  favorable  for  producing  impres 
sions  favorable  to  your  trade." 

%"  Hark  !— Awful !" 

"  For  one  who  would  arm  others  with  fear 
lessness,  you  seem  unbeseemingly  timorous 
yourself.  Common  men  choose  fair  weather 
for  their  travels :  you  choose  thunder-storms  ; 
and  yet " 

"  That  I  travel  in  thunder-storms,  I  grant; 
but  not  without  particular  precautions,  such  as 
only  a  lightning-rod  man  may  know.  Hark  ! 
Quick — look  at  my  specimen  rod.  Only  one 
dollar  a  foot." 


THE     LIGHTNING-ROD    MAN.  279 

"A  very  fine  rod,  I  dare  say.  But  what  are 
these  particular  precautions  of  yours  ?  Yet 
first  let  me  close  yonder  shutters ;  the  slanting 
rain  is  beating  through  the  sash.  I  will  bar 
up." 

"Are  you  mad?  Know  you  not  that  yon 
iron  bar  is  a  swift  conductor?  Desist." 

"  I  will  simply  close  the  shutters,  then,  and 
call  my  boy  to  bring  me  a  wooden  bar.  Pray, 
touch  the  bell-pull  there." 

"  Are  you  frantic  ?  That  bell- wire  might 
blast  you.  Never  touch  bell-wire  in  a  thunder 
storm,  nor  ring  a  bell  of  any  sort." 

"  Nor  those  in  belfries  ?  Pray,  will  you  tell 
me  where  and  how  one  may  be  safe  in  a  time 
like  this  ?  Is  there  any  part  of  my  house  I 
may  touch  with  hopes  of  my  life  ?" 

"There  is;  but  not  where  you  now  stand. 
Come  away  from  the  wall.  The  current  will 
sometimes  run  down  a  wall,  and — a  man  being 
a  better  conductor  than  a  wall — it  would  leave 
the  wall  and  run  into  him.  Swoop !  That 
must  have  fallen  very  nigh.  That  must  have 
been  globular  lightning." 

"Very  probably.     Tell  me  at  once,  which 


280  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

is,   in   your   opinion,  the   safest   part   of  this 
house  ?" 

"  This  room,  and  this  one  spot  in  it  where  I 
stand.  Come  hither." 

"  The  reasons  first." 

"  Hark ! — after  the  flash  the  gust — the  sashes 
shiver — the  house,  the  house  ! — Come  hither 
to  me!" 

"  The  reasons,  if  you  please." 

"  Come  hither  to  me  !" 

"  Thank  you  again,  I  think  I  will  try  my  old 
stand — the  hearth.  And  now,  Mr.  Lightning- 
rod-man,  in  the  pauses  of  the  thunder,  be  so 
good  as  to  tell  me  your  reasons  for  esteeming 
this  one  room  of  the  house  the  safest,  and 
your  own  one  stand-point  there  the  safest  spot 
in  it." 

There  was  now  a  little  cessation  of  the  storrn 
for  a  while.  The  Lightning-rod  man  seemed 
relieved,  and  replied  : — 

"  Your  house  is  a  one-storied  house,  with  an 
an  attic  and  a  cellar;  this  room  is  between. 
Hence  its  comparative  safety.  Because  light 
ning  sometimes  passes  from  the  clouds  to  the 
earth,  and  sometimes,  from  the  earth  to  the 


THE     LIGHTNING-ROD     MAN.  281 

clouds.  Do  you  comprehend? — and  I  choose 
the  middle  of  the  room,  because,  if  the  light 
ning  should  strike  the  house  at  all,  it  would 
come  down  the  chimney  or  walls ;  so,  obvious 
ly,  the  further  you  are  from  them,  the  better. 
Come  hither  to  me,  now." 

"  Presently.  Something  you  just  said,  in 
stead  of  alarming  me,  has  strangely  inspired 
confidence." 

"What  have  I  said?" 

"  You  said  that  sometimes  lightning  flashes 
from  the  earth  to  the  clouds." 

"  Aye,  the  returning-stroke,  as  it  is  called  ; 
when  the  earth,  being  overcharged  with  the 
fluid,  flashes  its  surplus  upward." 

"  The  returning-stroke ;  that  is,  from  earth 
to  sky.  Better  and  better.  But  come  here  on 
the  hearth  and  dry  yourself." 

"  I  am  better  here,  and  better  wet." 

"How?" 

"It^is  the  safest  thing  you  can  do — Hark, 
again  ! — to  get  yourself  thoroughly  drenched  in 
a  thunder-storm.  Wet  clothes  are  better  con 
ductors  than  the  body  ;  and  so,  if  the  lightning 
strike,  it  might  pass  down  the  wet  clothes 


282  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

without  touching  the  body.  The  storm  deep 
ens  again.  Have  you  a  rug  in  the  house? 
Rugs  are  non-conductors.  Get  one,  that  I 
may  stand  on  it  here,  and  you,  too.  The  skies 
blacken — it  is  dusk  at  noon.  Hark ! — the  rug, 
the  rug!" 

I  gave  him  one;  while  the  hooded  moun 
tains  seemed  closing  and  tumbling  into  the 
cottage. 

"  And  now,  since  our  being  dumb  will  not 
help  us,"  said  I,  resuming  my  place,  "  let  me 
hear  your  precautions  in  traveling  during 
thunder-storms." 

"  Wait  till  this  one  is  passed." 

"Nay,  proceed  with  the  precautions.  You 
stand  in  the  safest  possible  place  according  to 
your  own  account.  Go  on." 

"Briefly,  then.  I  avoid  pine-trees,  high 
houses,  lonely  barns,  upland  pastures,  running 
water,  flocks  of  cattle  and  sheep,  a  crowd  of 
men.  If  I  travel  on  foot — as  to-day — I  do 
not  walk  fast ;  if  in  my  buggy,  I  touch  not  its 
back  or  sides ;  if  on  horseback,  I  dismount  and 
lead  the  horse.  But  of  all  things,  I  avoid  tall 


THE    LIGHTNING-ROD    MAN.  283 

"Do  I   dream?     Man   avoid   man?   and  in 
danger-time,  too." 

"  Tall  men  in  a  thunder-storm  I  avoid.  Are 
you  so  grossly  ignorant  as  not  to  know,  that 
the  height  of  a  six-footer  is  sufficient  to  dis 
charge  an  electric  cloud  upon  him  ?  Are  not 
lonely  Kentuckians,  ploughing,  smit  in  the  un 
finished  furrow?  Nay,  if  the  six-footer  stand 
by  running  water,  the  cloud  will  sometimes 
select  him  as  its  conductor  to  that  running 
water.  Hark !  Sure,  yon  black  pinnacle  is 
split.  Yes,  a  man  is  a  good  conductor.  The 
lightning  goes  through  and  through  a  man,  but 
only  peels  a  tree.  But  sir,  you  have  kept  me 
so  long  answering  your  questions,  that  I  have, 
not  yet  come  to  business.  Will  you  order  one 
of  my  rods?  Look  at  this  specimen  one? 
See  :  it  is  of  the  best  of  copper.  Copper's  the 
best  conductor.  Your  house  is  low ;  but  be 
ing  upon  the  mountains,  that  lowness  does  not 
one  whit  depress  it.  You  mountaineers  are 
most  exposed.  In  mountainous  countries  the 
lightning-rod  man  should  have  most  business. 
Look  at  the  specimen,  sir.  One  rod  will  an 
swer  for  a  house  so  small  as  this.  Look  over 


284  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

these  recommendations.  Only  one  rod,  sir; 
cost,  only  twenty  dollars.  Hark!  There  go 
all  the  granite  Taconics  and  Hoosics  dashed 
together  like  pebbles.  By  the  sound,  that 
must  have  struck  something.  An  elevation  of 
five  feet  above  the  house,  will  protect  twenty 
feet  radius  all  about  the  rod.  Only  twenty 
dollars,  sir — a  dollar  a  foot.  Hark! — Dread 
ful  !—  Will  you  order?  Will  you  buy?  Shall 
I  put  down  your  name?  Think  of  being  a 
heap  of  charred  offal,  like  a  haltered  horse 
burnt  in  his  stall ;  and  all  in  one  flash !" 

"  You  pretended  envoy  extraordinary  and 
minister  plenipotentiary  to  and  from  Jupiter 
Tonans,"  laughed  I ;  "  you  mere  man  who 
come  here  to  put  you  and  your  pipestem  be 
tween  clay  and  sky,  do  you  think  that  because 
you  can  strike  a  bit  of  green  light  from  the 
Leyden  jar,  that  you  can  thoroughly  avert  the 
supernal  bolt  ?  Your  rod  rusts,  or  breaks,  and 
where  are  you?  Who  has  empowered  you, 
you  Tetzel,  to  peddle  round  your  indulgences 
from  divine  ordinations?  The  hairs  of  our 
heads  are  numbered,  and  the  days  of  our  lives. 
In  thunder  as  in  sunshine,  I  stand  at  ease  in 


THE     LIGHTNING-ROD     MAN.  285 

the  hands  of  my  God.  False  negotiator,  away ! 
See,  the  scroll  of  the  storm  is  rolled  back ;  the 
house  is  unharmed ;  and  in  the  blue  heavens  I 
read  in  the  rainbow,  that  the  Deity  will  not, 
of  purpose,  make  war  on  man's  earth." 

"  Impious  wretch !"  foamed  the  stranger, 
blackening  in  the  face  as  the  rainbow  beamed, 
"  I  will  publish  your  infidel  notions. 

The  scowl  grew  blacker  on  his  face ;  the  in 
digo-circles  enlarged  round  his  eyes  as  the 
storm-rings  round  the  midnight  moon.  He 
sprang  upon  me ;  his  tri-forked  thing  at  my 
heart. 

I  seized  it ;  I  snapped  it ;  I  dashed  it ;  I  trod 
it ;  and  dragging  the  dark  lightning-king  out 
of  my  door,  flung  his  elbowed,  copper  sceptre 
after  him. 

But  spite  of  my  treatment,  and  spite  of  my 
dissuasive  talk  of  him  to  my  neighbors",  the 
Lightning-rod  man  still  dwells  in  the  land; 
still  travels  in  storm-time,  and  drives  a  brave 
trade  with  the  fears  of  man. 


THE    ENCANTADAS; 

OR, 

ENCHANTED  ISLES. 
SKETCH  FIRST. 

THE   ISLES   AT  LARGE. 

— "  That  may  not  be,  said  then  the  ferryman, 
Least  we  unweeting  hap  to  be  fordonne  ; 
For  those  same  islands  seeming  now  and  than, 
Are  not  firme  land,  nor  any  certein  wonne, 
Bat  stragling  plots  which  to  and  fro  do  ronne 
In  the  wide  waters  ;  therefore  are  they  hight 
The  Wandering  Islands  ;  therefore  do  them  shonne  ; 
For  they  have  oft  drawne  many  a  wandring  wight 
Into  most  deadly  daunger  and  distressed  plight ; 
For  whosoever  once  hath  fastened 
His  foot  thereon  may  never  it  secure 
But  wandreth  evermore  uncertein  and  unsure." 
*        •*#        *        •*        *        -3t        *        •» 
"  Darke,  dolefull,  dreary,  like  a  greedy  grave, 
That  still  for  carrion  carcasses  doth  crave ; 
On  top  whereof  ay  dwelt  the  ghastly  owl, 
Shrieking  his  balefull  note,  which  ever  drave 
Far  from  that  haunt  aH  other  cheerful  fowl, 
And  all  about  it   wandring  ghosts  did   wayle  and 
howl." 

TAKE    five-and-twenty    heaps    of    cinders 
dumped  here  and  there  in  an  outside  city  lot; 


288  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

imagine  some  of  them  magnified  into  moun 
tains,  and  the  vacant  lot  the  sea;  and  you  will 
have  a  fit  idea  of  the  general  aspect  of  the 
Encantadas,  or  Enchanted  Isles.  A  group 
rather  of  extinct  volcanoes  than  of  isles  ;  look 
ing  much  as  the  world  at  large  might,  after  a 
penal  conflagration. 

It  is  to  be  doubted  whether  any  spot  of  earth 
can,  in  desolateness,  furnish  a  parallel  to  this 
group.  Abandoned  cemeteries  of  long  ago,  old 
cities  by  piecemeal  tumbling  to  their  ruin, 
these  are  melancholy  enough;  but,  like  all 
else  which  has  but  once  been  associated  with 
humanity,  they  still  awaken  in  us  some  thoughts 
of  sympathy,  however  sad.  Hence,  even  the 
Dead  Sea,  along  with  whatever  other  emotions 
it  may  at  times  inspire,  does  not  fail  to  touch 
in  the  pilgrim  some  of  his  less  unpleasurable 
feelings. 

And  as  for  solitariness  ;  the  great  forests  of 
the  north,  the  expanses  of  unnavigated  waters, 
the  Greenland  ice-fields,  are  the  profoundest  of 
solitudes  to  a  human  observer ;  still  the  magic 
of  their  changeable  tides  and  seasons  mitigates 
their  terror ;  because,  though  unvisited  by 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  289 

men,  those  forests  are  visited  by  the  May  ;  the 
remotest  seas  reflect  familiar  stars  even  as  Lake 
Erie  does;  and  in  the  clear  air  of  a  fine  Polar 
day,  the  irradiated,  azure  ice  shows  beautifully 
as  malachite. 

But  the  special  curse,  as  one  may  call  it,  of 
the  Encantadas,  that  which  exalts  them  in  deso 
lation  above  Idumea  and  the  Pole,  is,  that  to 
them  change  never  comes  ;  neither  the  change 
of  seasons  nor  of  sorrows.  Cut  by  the  Equator, 
they  know  not  autumn,  and  they  know  not 
spring;  while  already  reduced  to  the  lees  of 
fire,  ruin  itself  can  work  little  more  upon  them. 
The  showers  refresh  the  deserts ;  but  in  these 
isles,  rain  never  falls.  Like  split  Syrian  gourds 
left  withering  in  the  sun,  they  are  cracked  by 
an  everlasting  drought  beneath  a  torrid  sky. 
"Have  mercy  upon  me,"  the  wailing  spirit  of 
the  Encantadas  seems  to  cry,  "  and  send  Laza 
rus  that  he  may  dip  the  tip  of  his  finger  in 
water  and  cool  my  tongue,  for  I  am  tormented 
in  this  flame." 

Another  feature  in  these  isles  is  their  em 
phatic  uriinhabitableness.  It  is  deemed  a  fit 
type  of  all -forsaken  overthrow,  that  the  jackal 


290  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

should  den  in  the  wastes  of  weedy  Babylon; 
but  the  Encantadas  refuse  to  harbor  even  the 
outcasts  of  the  beasts.  Man  and  wolf  alike  dis 
own  them.  Little  but  reptile  life  is  here  found : 
tortoises,  lizards,  immense  spiders,  snakes,  and 
that  strangest  anomaly  of  outlandish  nature,  the 
aguano.  No  voice,  no  low,  no  howl  is  heard ; 
the  chief  sound  of  life  here  is  a  hiss. 

On  most  of  the  isles  where  vegetation  is 
found  at  all,  it  is  more  ungrateful  than  the 
blankness  of  Aracama.  Tangled  thickets  of 
wiry  bushes,  without  fruit  and  without  a 
name,  springing  up  among  deep  fissures  of  cal 
cined  rock,  and  treacherously  masking  them ; 
or  a  parched  growth  of  distorted  cactus  trees. 

In  many  places  the  coast  is  rock-bound,  or, 
more  properly,  clinker-bound;  tumbled  masses 
of  blackish  or  greenish  stuff  like  the  dross  of  an 
iron -furnace,  forming  dark  clefts  and  caves  here 
and  there,  into  which  a  ceaseless  sea  pours  a 
fury  of  foam ;  overhanging  them  with  a  swirl 
of  gray,  haggard  mist,  amidst  which  sail  scream 
ing  flights  of  unearthly  birds  heightening  the 
dismal  din.  However  calm  the  sea  without, 
there  is  no  rest  for  these  swells  and  those 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  291 

rocks ;  they  lash  and  are  lashed,  even  when 
the  outer  ocean  is  most  at  peace  with  itself. 
On  the  oppressive,  clouded  days,  such  as  are 
peculiar  to  this  part  of  the  watery  Equator, 
the  dark,  vitrified  masses,  many  of  which  raise 
themselves  among  white  whirlpools  and  break 
ers  in  detached  and  perilous  places  off  the 
shore,  present  a  most  Plutonian  sight.  In 
no  world  but  a  fallen  one  could  such  lands 
exist. 

Those  parts  of  the  strand  free  from  the 
marks  of  fire,  stretch  away  in  wide  level 
beaches  of  multitudinous  dead  shells,  with 
here  and  there  decayed  bits  of  sugar-cane, 
bamboos,  and  cocoanuts,  washed  upon  this 
other  and  darker  world  from  the  charming 
palm  isles  to  the  westward  and  southward ;  all 
the  way  from  Paradise  to  Tartarus ;  while 
mixed  with  the  relics  of  distant  beauty  you 
will  sometimes  see  fragments  of  charred  wood 
ancl  mouldering  ribs  of  wrecks.  Neither  will 
any  one  be  surprised  at  meeting  these  last, 
after  observing  the  conflicting  currents  which 
eddy  throughout  nearly  all  the  wide  channels 
of  the  entire  group.  The  capriciousness  of  the 


292  THE     PIAZZA      TALES. 

tides  of  air  sympathizes  with  those  of  the  sea. 
Nowhere  is  the  wrind  so  light,  baffling,  and 
every  way  unreliable,  and  so  given  to  perplex 
ing  calms,  as  at  the  Encantadas.  Nigh  a 
month  has  been  spent  by  a  ship  going  from  one 
isle  to  another,  though  but  ninety  miles  be 
tween  ;  for  owing  to  the  force  of  the  current, 
the  boats  employed  to  tow  barely  suffice  to 
keep  the  craft  from  sweeping  upon  the  cliffs, 
but  do  nothing  towards  accelerating  her  voy 
age.  Sometimes  it  is  impossible  for_a  vessel 
from  afar  to  fetch  up  with  the  group  itself,  un 
less  large  allowances  for  prospective  lee-way 
have  been  made  ere  its  coming  in  sight.  And 
yet,  at  other  times,  there  is  a  mysterious  in 
draft,  which  irresistibly  draws  a  passing  vessel 
among  the  isles,  though  not  bound  to  them. 

True,  at  one  period,  as  to  some  extent  at  the 
present  day,  large  fleets  of  whalemen  cruised 
for  spermaceti  upon  what  some  seamen  call 
the  Enchanted  Ground.  But  this,  as  in  due 
place  will  be  described,  was  off  the^  great  outer 
isle  of  Albemarle,  away  from  the  intricacies  of 
the  smaller  isles,  where  there  is  plenty  of  sea- 
room  ;  and  hence,  to  that  vicinity,  the  above 


THE     ENCANTADA3.  293 

remarks  do  not  altogether  apply ;  though  even 
there  the  current  runs  at  times  with  singular 
force,  shifting,  too,  with  as  singular  a  caprice. 

Indeed,  there  are  seasons  when  currents 
quite  unaccountable  prevail  for  a  great  dis 
tance  round  about  the  total  group,  and  are  so 
strong  and  irregular  as  to  change  a  vessel's 
course  against  the  helm,  though  sailing  at  the 
rate  of  four  or  five  miles  the  hour.  The  differ 
ence  in  the  reckonings  of  navigators,  produced 
by  these  causes,  along  with  the  light  and  vari 
able  winds,  long  nourished  a  persuasion,  that 
there  existed  two  distinct  clusters  of  isles  in 
the  parallel  of  the  Encantadas,  about  a  hun 
dred  leagues  apart.  Such  was  the  idea  of 
their  earlier  visitors,  the  Buccaneers ;  and  as 
late  as  1750,  the  charts  of  that  part  of  the 
Pacific  accorded  writh  the  strange  delusion. 
And  this  apparent  fleetingness  and  unreality  of 
the  locality  of  the  isles  was  most  probably  one 
reason  for  the  Spaniards  calling  them  the  En- 
cantada,  or  Enchanted  Group. 

But  not  uninfluenced  by  their  character,  as 
they  now  confessedly  exist,  the  modern  voy 
ager  will  be  inclined  to  fancy  that  the  be- 


294  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

stowal  of  this  name  might  have  in  part  origi 
nated  in  that  air  of  spell-bound  desertness 
which  so  significantly  invests  the  isles.  No 
thing  can  better  suggest  the  aspect  of  once 
living  things  malignly  crumbled  from  ruddiness 
into  ashes.  Apples  of  Sodom,  after  touching, 
seem  these  isles. 

However  wavering  their  place  may  seem  by 
reason  of  the  currents,  they  themselves,  at 
least  to  one  upon  the  shore,  appear  invariably 
the  same :  fixed,  cast,  glued  into  the  very  body 
of  cadaverous  death. 

Nor  would  the  appellation,  enchanted,  seem 
misapplied  in  still  another  sense.  For  con 
cerning  the  peculiar  reptile  inhabitant  of  these 
wilds — whose  presence  gives  the  group  its 
second  Spanish  name,  Gallipagos — concerning 
the  tortoises  found  here,  most  mariners  have 
long  cherished  a  superstition,  not  more  fright 
ful  than  grotesque.  They  earnestly  believe 
that  all  wicked  sea-officers,  more  especially 
commodores  and  captains,  are  at  death  (and,  in 
some  cases,  before  death)  transformed  into  tor 
toises;  thenceforth  dwelling  upon  these  hot 
aridities,  sole  solitary  lords  of  Asphaltum. 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  295 

Doubtless,  so  quaintly  dolorous  a  thought 
was  originally  inspired  by  the  woe-begone 
landscape  itself;  but  more  particularly,  per 
haps,  by  the  tortoises.  For,  apart  from  their 
strictly  physical  features,  there  is  something 
strangely  self-condemned  in  the  appearance  of 
these  creatures.  Lasting  sorrow  and  penal 
hopelessness  are  in  no  animal  form  so  suppli- 
antly  expressed  as  in  theirs  ;  while  the  thought 
of  their  wonderful  longevity  does  not  fail  to 
enhance  the  impression. 

Nor  even  at  the  risk  of  meriting  the  charge  of 
absurdly  believing  in  enchantments,  can  I  re 
strain  the  admission  that  sometimes,  even  now, 
when  leaving  the  crowded  city  to  wander  out 
July  and  August  among  the  Adirondack  Moun 
tains,  far  from  the  influences  of  towns  and  •pro 
portionally  nigh  to  the  mysterious  ones  of 
nature  ;  when  at  such  times  I  sit  me  down  in 
the  mossy  head  of  some  deep-wooded  gorge, 
surrounded  by  prostrate  trunks  of  blasted  pines 
and  recall,  as  in  a  dream,  my  other  and  far-dis 
tant  rovings  in  the  baked  heart  of  the  charmed 
isles;  and  remember  the  sudden  glimpses  of 
dusky  shells,  and  long  languid  necks  protruded 


296  THE    PIAZZA   TALES. 

from  the  leafless  thickets ;  and  again  have  be 
held  the  vitreous  inland  rocks  worn  down  and 
grooved  into  deep  ruts  by  ages  and  ages  of  the 
slow  draggings  of  tortoises  in  quest  of  pools  of 
scanty  water;  I  can  hardly  resist  the  feeling 
that  in  my  time  I  have  indeed  slept  upon  evilly 
enchanted  ground. 

Nay,  such  is  the  vividness  ofrmy  memory,  or 
the  magic  of  my  fancy,  that  I  know  not  whe 
ther  I  am  not  the  occasional  victim  of  optical 
delusion  concerning  the  Gallipagos.  For,  often 
in  scenes  of  social  merriment,  and  especially  at 
revels  held  by  candle-light  in  old-fashioned 
mansions,  so  that  shadows  are  thrown  into  the 
further  recesses  of  an  angular  and  spacious 
room,  making  them  put  on  a  look  of  haunted 
undergrowth  of  lonely  woods,  I  have  drawn 
the  attention  of  my  comrades  by  my  fixed  gaze 
and  sudden  change  of  air,  as  I  have  seemed  ,to 
see,  slowly  emerging  from  those  imagined  soli 
tudes,  and  heavilv  crawling  along  the  floor,  the 
ghost  of  a  gigantic  tortoise,  with  "  Memento 
*  *  *  *  #  »  burning  in  live  letters  upon  his 

back. 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  297 


SKETCH   SECOND.      , 

TWO   SIDES   TO   A   TORTOISE. 

"  Most  ugly  stapes  and  horrible  aspects, 
Such  as  Dame  Nature  selfe  mote  feare  to  see, 
Or  shame,  that  ever  should  so  fowle  defects 
From  her  most  cunning  hand  escaped  bee ; 
All  dreadfull  pourtraicts  of  deformitee. 
Ne  wonder  if  these  do  a  man  appall ; 
For  all  that  here  at  home  we  dreadfull  hold 
Be  but  as  bugs  to  fearen  babes  withall 
Compared  to  the  creatures  in  these  isles'  entrall 

*  *        #        #        #        * 

Fear  naught,  then  said  the  palmer,  well  avized, 
For  these  same  monsters  are  not  there  indeed, 
But  are  into  these  fearful  shapes  disguized. 

*  *        •&        •&        •£        * 
And  lifting  up  his  vertuous  staffe  on  high, 
Then  all  that  dreadful  arniie  fast  gan  flye 

Into  great  Zethy's  bosom,  where  they  hidden  lye." 

In  view  of  the  description  given,  may  one 
be  gay  upon  the  Encantadas?  Yes:  that  is, 
find  one  the  gayety,  and  he  will  be  gay.  And, 
indeed,  sackcloth  and  ashes  as  they  are,  the 
isles  are  not  perhaps  unmitigated  gloom.  For 
while  no  spectator  can  deny  their  claims  to  a 
most  solemn  and  superstitious  consideration,  no 
more  than  my  firmest  resolutions  can  decline 
to  behold  the  spectre-tortoise  when  emerging 


298  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

from  its  shadowy  recess  ;  yet  even  the  tortoise, 
dark  and  melancholy  as  it  is  upon  the  back, 
still  possesses  a  bright  side ;  its  calipee  or 
breast-plate  being  sometimes  of  a  faint  yellow 
ish  or  golden  tinge.  Moreover,  every  one  knows 
that  tortoises  as  well  as  turtle  are  of  such  a 
make,  that  if  you  but  put  them  on  their  backs 
you  thereby  expose  their  bright  sides  w-ithout 
the  possibility  of  their  recovering  themselves, 
and  turning  into  view  the  other.  But  after  you 
have  done  this,  and  because  you  have  done 
this,  you  should  not  swear  that  the  tortoise 
has  no  dark  side.  Enjoy  the  bright,  keep  it 
turned  up  perpetually  if  you  can,  but  be 
honest,  and  don't  deny  the  black.  Neither 
should  he,  who  cannot  turn  the  tortoise  from 
its  natural  position  so  as  to  hide  the  darker 
and  expose  his  livelier  aspect,  like  a  great 
October  pumpkin  in  the  sun,  for  that  cause 
declare  the  creature  to  be  one  total  inky  blot. 
The  tortoise  is  both  black  and  bright.  But 
let  us  to  particulars. 

Some  months  before  my  first  stepping  ashore 
upon  the  group,  my  ship  was  cruising  in  its 
close  vicinity.  One  noon  we  found  ourselves 


THE     E  NO  AN  TAD  AS.  299 

off  the  South  Head  of  Albemarle,  and  not  very 
far  from  the  land.  Partly  by  way  of  freak,  and 
partly  by  way  of  spying  out  so  strange  a 
country,  a  boat's  crew  was  sent  ashore,  with 
orders  to  see  all  they  could,  and  besides,  bring 
back  whatever  tortoises  they  could  convenient 
ly  transport. 

It  was  after  sunset,  when  the  adventurers 
returned.'  I  looked  down  over  the  ship's  high 
side  as  if  looking  down  over  the  curb  of  a  well, 
and  dimly  saw  the  damp  boat  deep  in  the  sea 
writh  some  unwonted  weight.  Ropes  were 
dropt  over,  and  presently  three  huge  antedi 
luvian-looking  tortoises,  after  much  straining, 
were  landed  on  deck.  They  seemed  hardly  of 
the  seed  of  earth.  We  had  been  broad  upon 
the  waters  for  five  long  months,  a  period  amply 
sufficient  to  make  all  things  of  the  land  wear  a 
fabulous  hue  to  the  dreamy  mind.  Had  three 
Spanish  custom-house  officers  boarded  us  then, 
it  is  not  unlikely  that  I  should  have  curiously 
stared  at  them,  felt  of  them,  and  stroked  them 
much  as  savages  ^erve  civilized  guests.  But 
instead  of  three  custom-house  officers,  behold 
these  really  wondrous  tortoises — none  of  your 


300  THE      PIAZZA     TALES. 

schoolboy  mud-turtles — but  black  as  widower's 
weeds,  heavy  as  chests  of  plate,  with  vast  shells 
medallioned  and  orbed  like  shields,  and  dented 
and  blistered  like  shields  that  have  breasted  a 
battle,  shaggy,  too,  here  and  there,  with  dark 
green  moss,  and  slimy  with  the  spray  of  the 
sea.  These  mystic  creatures,  suddenly  trans 
lated  by  night  from  unutterable  solitudes  to 
our  peopled  deck,  affected  me  in  a  manner  not 
easy  to  unfold.  They  seemed  newly  crawled 
forth  from  beneath  the  foundations  of  the 
world.  Yea,  they  seemed  the  identical  tortoises 
whereon  the  Hindoo  plants  this  total  sphere. 
With  a  lantern  I  inspected  them  more  closely. 
Sucli  worshipful  venerableness  of  aspect !  Such 
furry  greenness  mantling  the  rude  peelings  and 
healing  the  fissures  of  their  shattered  shells. 
I  no  more  saw  three  tortoises.  They  expanded 
— became  transfigured.  I  seemed  to  see  three 
Koman  Coliseums  in  magnificent  decay. 

Ye  oldest  inhabitants  of  this,  or  any  other 
isle,  said  I,  pray,  give  me  the  freedom  of  your 
three-walled  towns. 

The  great, feeling  inspired  by  these  creatures 
was  that  of  age : — dateless,  indefinite  en- 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  301 

durance.  And  in  fact  that  any  other  creature 
can  live  and  breathe  as  long  as  the  tortoise  of 
the  Encantadas,  I  will  not  readily  believe. 
Not  to  hint  of  their  known  capacity  of  sustain 
ing  life,  while  going  without  food  for  an  entire 
year,  consider  that  impregnable  armor  of  their 
living  mail.  What  other  bodily  being  possesses 
such  a  citadel  wherein  to  resist  the  assaults  of 
Time  ? 

As,  lantern  in  hand,  I  scraped  among  the 
moss  and  beheld  the  ancient  scars  of  bruises 
received  in  many  a  sullen  fall  among  the  marly 
mountains  of  the  isle — scars  strangely  widen 
ed,  swollen,  half  obliterate,  and  yet  distorted 
like  those  sometimes  found  in  the  bark  of  very 
hoary  trees,  I  seemed  an  antiquary  of  a  geolo 
gist,  studying  the  bird-tracks  and  ciphers  upon 
the  exhumed  slates  trod  by  incredible  creatures 
whose  very  ghosts  are  now  defunct. 

As  I  lay  in  my  hammock  that  night,  over 
head  I  heard  the  slow  weary  draggings  of  the 
three  ponderous  strangers  along  the  encumbered 
deck.  Their  stupidity  or  their  resolution  was 
so  great,  that  they  never  went  aside  for  any 
impediment.  One  ceased  his  movements  alto- 


802  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

gether  just  before  the  mid- watch.  At  sunrise 
I  found  him  butted  like  a  battering-ram  against 
the  immovable  foot  of  the  foremast,  and  still 
striving,  tooth  and  nail,  to  force  the  impossible 
passage.  That  these  tortoises  are  the  victims 
of  a  penal,  or  malignant,  or  perhaps  a  down 
right  diabolical  enchanter,  seems  in  nothing 
more  likely  than  in  that  strange  infatuation  of 
hopeless  toil  which  so  often  possesses  them.  I 
have  known  'them  in  their  journeyings  ram 
themselves  heroically  against  rocks,  and  long 
abide  there,  nudging,  wriggling,  wedging,  in 
order  to  displace  them,  and  so  hold  on  their 
inflexible  path.  Their  crowning  curse  is  their 
drudging  impulse  to  straightforwardness  in  a 
belittered  world. 

Meeting  writh  no  such  hinderance  as  their 
companion  did,  the  other  tortoises  merely  fell 
foul  of  small  stumbling-blocks — buckets,  blocks, 
and  coils  of  rigging — and  at  times  in  the  act  of 
crawling  over  them  would  slip  with  an  astound 
ing  rattle  to  the  deck.  Listening  to  these 
draggings  and  concussions,  I  thought  me  of 
the  haunt  from  which  they  came ;  an  isle  full 
of  metallic  ravines  and  gulches,  sunk  bottom- 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  303 

lessly  into  the  hearts  of  splintered  mountains, 
and  covered  for  many  miles  with  inextricable 
thickets.  I  then  pictured  these  three  straight 
forward  monsters,  century  after  century,  writh 
ing  through  the  shades,  grim  as  blacksmiths ; 
crawling  so  slowly  and  ponderously,  that  not 
only  did  toad-stools  and  all  fungus  things  grow 
beneath  their  feet,  bat  a  sooty  moss  sprouted 
upon  their  backs.  With  them  I  lost  myself  in 
volcanic  mazes ;  brushed  away  endless  boughs 
of  rotting  thickets ;  till  finally  in  a  dream  I 
found  myself  sitting  crosslegged  upon  the  fore 
most,  a  Brahmin  similarly  mounted  upon  either 
side,  forming  a  tripod  of  foreheads  which  up 
held  the  universal  cope. 

Such  was  the  wild  nightmare  begot  by  my 
first  impression  of  the  Encantadas  tortoise. 
But  next  evening,  strange  to  say,  I  sat  down 
with  my  shipmates,  and  made  a  merry  repast 
from  tortoise  steaks  and  tortoise  stews';  and 
supper  over,  out  knife,  and  helped  convert  the 
three  mighty  concave  shells  into  three  fanciful 
.soup-tureens,  and  polished  the  three  flat  yellow 
ish  calipees  into  three  gorgeous  salvers. 


304  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 


SKETCH  THIRD. 

EOCK    RODONDO. 

"  For  they  this  hight  the  Eock  of  vile  Reproach, 
A  dangerous  and  dreadful  place, 
To  which  nor  fish  nor  fowl  did  once  approach, 
But  yelling  meaws  with  sea-gulls  hoars  and  bace 
And  cormoyrants  with  birds  of  ravenous  race, 
Which  still  sit  waiting  on  that  dreadful  clift." 

*  #        *        #        *        * 

"  With  that  the  rolling  sea  resounding  soft 
In  his  big  base  them  fitly  answered, 
And  on  the  Rock,  the  waves  breaking  aloft, 
A  solemn  meane  unto  them  measured." 
•*        *        *        *        #        * 

"  Then  he  the  boteman  bad  row  easily, 
And  let  him  heare  some  part  of  that  rare  melody." 

#  *        *        •*        *         •* 
"  Suddeinly  an  innumerable  flight 

Of  harmcfull  fowlee  about  them  fluttering  cride, 
And  with  their  wicked  wings  them  oft  did  smight 

And  sore  annoyed,  groping  in  that  griesly  night." 
****** 

"  Even  all  the  nation  of  unfortunate 
And  fatal  birds  about  them  flocked  were." 

To  go  up  into  a  high  stone  tower  is  not  only 
a  very  fine  thing  in  itself,  but  the  very  best 
mode  of  gaining  a  comprehensive  view  of  the 
region  round  about.  It  is  all  the  better  if  this 
tower  stand  solitary  and  alone,  like  that  mys- 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  305 

terious  Newport  one,  or  else  be  sole  survivor 
of  some  perished  castle. 

Now,  with  reference  to  the  Enchanted  Isles, 
we  are  fortunately  supplied  with  just  such  a 
noble  point  of  observation  in  a  remarkable 
rock,  from  its  peculiar  figure  called  of  old  by 
the  Spaniards,  Kock  Rodondo,  or  Round  Rock. 
Some  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high,  rising 
straight  from  the  sea  ten  miles  from  land,  with 
the  whole  mountainous  group  to  the  south  and 
east,  Rock  Rotondo  occupies,  on  a  large  scale, 
very  much  the  position  which  the  famous  Cam 
panile  or  detached  Bell  Tower  of  St.  Mark  does 
with  respect  to  the  tangled  group  of  hoary 
edifices  around  it. 

Ere  ascending,  however,  to  gaze  abroad  upon 
the  Encantadas,  this  sea-tower  itself  claims 
attention.  It  is  visible  at  the  distance  of 
thirty  miles ;  and,  fully  participating  in  that 
enchantment  which  pervades  the  group,  when 
first  seen  afar  invariably  is  mistaken  for  a  sail. 
Four  leagues  away,  of  a  golden,  hazy  noon,  it 
seems  some  Spanish  Admiral's  ship,  stacked  up 
with  glittering  canvas.  Sail  ho  !  Sail  ho!  Sail 
ho !  from  all  three  masts.  But  corning  nigh, 


306  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

the  enchanted  frigate  is  transformed  apace 
into  a  craggy  keep. 

My  first  visit  to  the  spot  was  made  in  the 
gray  of  the  morning.  With  a  view  of  fishing, 
we  had  lowered  three  boats,  and  pulling  some 
two  miles  from  our  vessel,  found  ourselves  just 
before  dawn  of  day  close  under  the  moon- 
shadow  of  Rodondo.  Its  aspect  was  heightened, 
and  yet  softened,  by  the  strange  double  twi 
light  of  the  hour.  The  great  full  moon  burnt 
in  the  low  west  like  a  half-spent  beacon,  cast 
ing  a  soft  mellow  tinge  upon  the  sea  like  that 
cast  by  a  waning  fire  of  embers  upon  a  mid 
night  hearth ;  while  along  the  entire  east  the 
invisible  sun  sent  pallid  intimations  of  his  com 
ing.  The  wind  was  light ;  the  waves  languid  ; 
the  stars  twinkled  with  a  faint  effulgence ;  all 
nature  seemed  supine  with  the  long  night 
watch,  and  half-suspended  in  jaded  expectation 
of  the  sun.  This  was  the  critical  hour  to  catch 
Rodondo  in  his  perfect  mood.  The  twilight  was 
just  enough  to  reveal  every  striking  point, 
without  tearing  away  the  dim  investiture  of 
wonder. 

From  a  broken    stair-like  base,  washed,  as 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  307 

the  steps  of  a  water-palace,  by  the  waves,  the 
tower  rose  in  entablatures  of  strata  to  a  shaven 
summit.  These  uniform  layers,  which  compose 
the  mass,  form  its  most  peculiar  feature.  For 
at  their  lines  of  junction  they  .project  flatly 
into  encircling  shelves,  from  top  to  bottom, 
rising  one  above  another  in  graduated  series. 
And  as  the  eaves  of  any  old  barn  or  abbey  are 
alive  with  swallows,  so  were  all  these  rocky 
ledges  with  unnumbered  sea-fowl.  Eaves  upon 
eaves,  and  nests  upon  nests.  Here  and  there 
were  long  birdlime  streaks  of  a  ghostly  white 
staining  the  tower  from  sea  to  air,  readily  ac 
counting  for  its  sail-like  look  afar.  All  would 
have  been  bewitchingly  quiescent,  were  it  not 
for  the  demoniac  din  created  by  the  birds.  Not 
only  were  the  eaves  rustling  with  them,  but 
they  flew  densely  overhead,  spreading  them 
selves  into  a  winged  and  continually  shifting 
canopy.  The  tower  is  the  resort  of  aquatic 
birds  for  hundreds  of  leagues  around.  To  the 
north,  to  the  east,  to  the  west,  stretches  no 
thing  but  eternal  ocean ;  so  that  the  man-of- 
war  hawk  coming  from  the  coasts  of  North 
America,  Polynesia,  or  Peru,  makes  his  first 


308  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

land  at  Rodondo.  And  yet  though  Rodondo  be 
terra-firma,  no  land-bird  ever  lighted  on  it. 
Fancy  a  red-robin  or  a  canary  there !  What 
a  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  Philistines,  when 
the  poor  warbler  should  be  surrounded  by  such 
locust-flights  of  strong  bandit  birds,  with  long 
bills  cruel  as  daggers. 

I  know  not  where  one  can  better  study  the 
Natural  History  of  strange  sea-fowl  than  at 
Rodondo.  It  is  the  aviary  of  Ocean.  Birds 
light  here  which  never  touched  mast  or  tree ; 
hermit-birds,  wrhich  ever  fly  alone  ;  cloud-birds, 
familiar  with  unpierced  zones  of  air. 

Let  us  first  glance  low  down  to  the  lower 
most  shelf  of  all,  which  is  the  widest,  too,  and 
but  a  little  space  from  high-water  mark.  What 
outlandish  beings  are  these  ?  Erect  as  men,  but 
hardly  as  symmetrical,  they  stand  all  round  the 
rock  like  sculptured  caryatides,  supporting  the 
next  range  of  eaves  above.  Their  bodies  are 
grotesquely  misshapen  ;  their  bills  short ;  their 
feet  seemingly  legless;  while  the  members  at 
their  sides  are  neither  fin,  wing,  nor  arm.  And 
truly  neither  fish,  flesh,  nor  fowl  is  the  pen 
guin  ;  as  an  edible,  pertaining  neither  to  Car- 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  309 

nival  nor  Lent ;  without  exception  the  most 
ambiguous  and  least  lovely  creature  yet  dis 
covered  by  man.  Though  dabbling  in  all  three 
elements,  and  indeed  possessing  some  rudi- 
mental  claims  to  all,  the  penguin  is  at  home 
in  none.  On  land  it  stumps  ;  afloat  it  sculls  ; 
in  the  air  it  flops.  As  if  ashamed  of  her  failure, 
Nature  keeps  this  ungainly  child  hidden  away 
at  the  ends  of  the  earth,  in  the  Straits  of  Ma 
gellan,  and  on  the  abased  sea-story  of  Rodondo. 

But  look,  what  are  yon  wobegone  regiments 
drawn  up  on  the  next  shelf  above?  what 
rank  and  file  of  large  strange  fowl  ?  what  sea 
Friars  of  Orders  Gray  ?  Pelicans.  Their  elon 
gated  bills,  and  heavy  leathern  pouches  sus 
pended  thereto,  give  them  the  most  lugubrious 
expression.  A  pensive  race,  they  stand  for 
hours  together  without  motion.  Their  dull, 
ashy  plumage  imparts  an  aspect  as  if  they  had 
been  powdered  over  with  cinders.  A  peniten 
tial  bird,  indeed,  fitly  haunting  the  shores  of 
the  clinkered  Encantadas,  whereon  tormented 
Job  himself  might  have  well  sat  down  and 
scraped  himself  with  potsherds. 

Higher  up  now  we  mark  the  gony,  or  gray 


310  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

albatross,  anomalously  so  called,  an  unsightly 
unpoetic  bird,  unlike  its  storied  kinsman,  which 
is  the  snow-white  ghost  of  the  haunted  Capes 
of  Hope  and  Horn. 

As  we  still  ascend  from  shelf  to  shelf,  we 
find  the  tenants  of  the  tower  serially  disposed 
in  order  of  their  magnitude  : — gannets,  black 
and  speckled  haglets,  jays,  sea-hens,  sperm- 
whale-birds,  gulls  of  all  varieties : — thrones, 
princedoms,  powers,  dominating  one  above 
another  in  senatorial  array ;  while,  sprinkled 
over  all,  like  an  ever-repeated  fly  in  a  great 
piece  of  broidery,  the  stormy  petrel  or.  Mother 
Gary's  chicken  sounds  his  continual  challenge 
and  alarm.  That  this  mysterious  humming 
bird  of  ocean — which,  had  it  but  brilliancy  of 
hue,  might,  from  its  evanescent  liveliness,  be 
almost  called  its  butterfly,  yet  whose  chirrup 
under  the  stern  is  ominous  to  mariners  as  to 
the  peasant  the  death-tick  sounding  from  be 
hind  the  chimney  jamb — should  have  its  special 
haunt  at  the  Encantadas,  contributes,  in  the 
seaman's  mind,  not  a  little  to  their  dreary  spell. 

As  day  advances  the  dissonant  din  augments. 
With  ear-splitting  cries  the  wild  birds  celebrate 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  311 

their  matins.  Each  moment,  flights  push  from 
the  tower,  and  join  the  aerial  choir  hovering 
overhead,  while  their  places  below  are  supplied 
by  darting  myriads.  But  down  through  all 
this  discord  of  commotion,  I  hear  clear,  silver, 
bugle-like  notes  unbrokenly  falling,  like  ob 
lique  lines  of  swift-slanting  rain  in  a  cascading 
shower.  I  gaze  far  up,  and  behold  a  snow- 
white  angelic  thing,  with  one  long,  lance-like 
feather  thrust  out  behind*  It  is  the  bright, 
inspiriting  chanticleer  of  ocean,  the  beauteous 
bird,  from  its  bestirring  whistle  of  musical 
invocation,  fitly  styled  the  "  Boatswain's 
Mate." 

The  winged,  life-clouding  Rodondo  had  its 
full  counterpart  in  the  finny  hosts  which  peo 
pled  the  waters  at  its  base.  Below  the  water- 
line,  the  rock  seemed  one  honey-comb  of 
grottoes,  affording  labyrinthine  lurking-places 
for  swarms  of  fairy  fish.  All  were  strange ; 
many  exceedingly  beautiful ;  and  would  have 
well  graced  the  costliest  glass  globes  in  which 
gold-fish  are  kept  for  a  show.  Nothing  was 
more  striking  than  the  complete  novelty  of 
many  individuals  of  this  multitude.  Here  hues 


312  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

were  seen  as  yet  unpainted,  and  figures  Which 
are  unengraved. 

To  show  the  multitude,  avidity,  and  name 
less  fearlessness  and  tameness  of  these  fish,  let 
me  say,  that  often,  marking  through  clear 
spaces  of  water — temporarily  made  so  by  the 
concentric  dartings  of  the  fish  above  the  surface 
— certain  larger  and  less  unwary  wights,  which 
swam  slow  and  deep ;  our  anglers  would  cau 
tiously  essay  to  drop  their  lines  down  to  these 
last.  But  in  vain;  there  was  no  passing  the 
uppermost  zone.  No  sooner  did  the  hook  touch 
the  sea,  than  a  hundred  infatuates  contended 
for  the  honor  of  capture.  Poor  fish  of  Rodon- 
do!  in  your  victimized  confidence,  you  are  of 
the  number  of  those  who  inconsiderately  trust, 
while  they  do  not  understand,  human  nature. 

But  the  dawn  is  now  fairly  day.  Band  after 
band,  the  sea-fowl  sail  away  to  forage  the 
deep  for  their  food.  The  tower  is  left  solitary, 
save  the  fish-caves  at  its  base.  Its  birdlime 
gleams  in  the  golden  rays  like  the  whitewash 
of  a  tall  light-house,  or  the  lofty  sails  of  a 
cruiser.  This  moment,  doubtless,  while  we 
know  it  to  be  a  dead  desert  rock,  other  voya- 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  313 

gers  are   taking  oaths  it  is  a  glad  populous 
ship. 

But  ropes  now,  and  let  us  ascend.    Yet  soft, 
this  is  not  so  easy.  • 
14 


814  THE     PIAZZA    TALES. 

SKETCH  FOUBTH. 

A  PISGAH   VIEW   FKOM   THE   BOOK. 

— "  That  done,  he  leads  him  to  the  highest  mount, 
From  whence,  far  off  he  unto  him  did  show  :" 

If  you  seek  to  ascend  Rock  Rodondo,  take 
the  following  prescription.  Go  three  voy 
ages  round  the  world  as  a  main-royal-man 
of  the  tallest  frigate  that  floats ;  then  serve  a 
year  or  two  apprenticeship  to  the  guides  who 
conduct  strangers  up  the  Peak  of  Teneriffe ; 
and  as  many  more  respectively  to  a  rope- 
dancer,  an  Indian  juggler,  and  a  chamois.  This 
done,  come  and  be  rewarded  by  the  view  from 
our  tower.  How  we  get  there,  we  alone  know. 
If  we  sought  to  tell  others,  what  the  wiser 
were  they  ?  Suffice  it,  that  here  at  the  sum 
mit  you  and  I  stand.  Does  any  balloonist, 
does  the  outlooking  man  in  the  moon,  take  a 
broader  view  of  space?  Much  thus,  one 
fancies,  looks  the  universe  from  Milton's  celes 
tial  battlements.  A  boundless  watery  Ken 
tucky.  Here  Daniel  Boone  would  have  dwelt 
content. 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  315 

Never  heed  for  the  present  yonder  Burnt 
District  of  the  Enchanted  Isles.  Look  edge 
ways,  as  it  were,  past  them,  to  the  south.  You 
see  nothing ;  but  permit  me  to  point  out  the 
direction,  if  not  the  place,  of  certain  interesting 
objects  in  the  vast  sea,  which,  kissing  this 
tower's  base,  we  behold  unscrolling  itself 
towards  the  Antarctic  Pole. 

We  stand  now  ten  miles  from  the  Equator. 
Yonder,  to  the  East,  some  six  hundred  miles, 
lies  the  continent ;  this  Rock  being  just  about 
on  the  parallel  of  Quito. 

Observe  another  thing  here.  We  are  at 
one  of  three  uninhabited  clusters,  wjiich,  at 
pretty  nearly  uniform  distances  from  the  main, 
sentinel,  at  long  intervals  from  each  other,  the 
entire  coast  of  South  America.  In  a  peculiar 
manner,  also,  they  terminate  the  South  Ameri 
can  character  of  country.  Of  the  unnumbered 
Polynesian  chains  to  the  westward,  not  one 
partakes  of  the  qualities  of  the  Encantadas  or 
Gallipagos,  the  isles  of  St.  Felix  and  St.  Am 
brose,  the  isles  Juan  Fernandez  and  Massafuero. 
Of  the  first,  it  needs  not  here  to  speak.  The 
second  lie  a  little  above  the  Southern  Tropic ; 


316  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

lofty,  inhospitable,  and  uninhabitable  rocks, 
one  of  which,  presenting  two  round  hummocks 
connected  by  a  low  reef,  exactly  resembles  a 
huge  double-headed  shot.  The  last  lie  in  the 
latitude  of  33°  ;  high,  wild  and  cloven.  Juan 
Fernandez  is  sufficiently  famous  without  fur 
ther  description.  Massafuero  is  a  Spanish  name, 
expressive  of  the  fact,  that'  the  isle  so  called  lies 
more  without,  that  is,  further  off  the  main  than 
its  neighbor  Juan.  This  isle  Massafuero  has  a 
very  imposing  aspect  at  a  distance  of  eight  or 
ten  miles.  Approached  in  one  direction,  in 
cloudy  weather,  its  great  overhanging  height 
and  rugged  contour,  and  more  especially  a 
peculiar  slope  of  its  broad  summits,  give  it 
much  the  air  of  a  vast  iceberg  drifting  in  tre 
mendous  poise.  Its  sides  are  split  with  dark 
cavernous  recesses,  as  an  old  cathedral  with  its 

0 

gloomy  lateral  chapels.  Drawing  nigh  one  of 
these  gorges  from  sea,  after  a  long  voyage,  and 
beholding  some  tatterdemalion  outlaw,  staff  in 
hand,  descending  its  steep  rocks  toward  you, 
conveys  a  very  queer  emotion  to  a  lover  of 
the  picturesque. 

On   fishing    parties  from   ships,   at   various 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  317 

times,  I  have  chanced  to  visit  each  of  these 
groups.  The  impression  they  give  to  the 
stranger  pulling  close  up  in  his  boat  under 
their  grim  cliffs  is,  that  surely  he  must  be  their 
first  discoverer,  such,  for  the  most  part,  is  the 

unimpaired silence  and  solitude.    And 

here,  by  the  way,  the  mode  in  which  these 
isles  were  really  first  lighted  upon  by  Euro 
peans  is  not  unworthy  of  mention,  especially  as 
what  is  about  to  be  said,  likewise  applies  to  the 
original  discovery  of  our  Encantadas. 

Prior  to  the  year  1563,  the  voyages  made  by 
Spanish  ships  from  Peru  to  Chili,  were  full  of 
difficulty.  Along  this  coast,  the  winds  from 
the  South  most  generally  prevail ;  and  it  had 
been  an  invariable  custom  to  keep  close  in 
with  the  land,  from  a  superstitious  conceit  on 
the  part  of  the  Spaniards,  that  were  they  to 
lose  sight  of  it,  the  eternal  trade-wind  would 
waft  them  into  unending  waters,  from  whence 
would  be  no  return.  Here,  involved  among 
tortuous  capes  and  headlands,  shoals  and 
reefs,  beating,  too,  against  a  continual  head 
wind,  often  light,  and  sometimes  for  days  and 
weeks  sunk. into  utter  calm,  the  provincial  ves- 


318  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

sels,  in  many  cases,  suffered  the  extremcst 
hardships,  in  passages,  which  at  the  present 
day  seem  to  have  been  incredibly  protracted. 
There  is  on  record  in  some  collections  of  nau 
tical  disasters,  an  account  of  one  of  these  ships, 
which,  starting  on  a  voyage  whose  duration 
was  estimated  at  ten  days,  spent  four  months 
at  sea,  and  indeed  never  again  entered  harbor, 
for  in  the  end  she  was  cast  away.  Singular  to 
tell,  this  craft  never  encountered  a  gale,  but 
was  the  vexed  sport  of  malicious  calms  and 
currents.  Thrice,  out  of  provisions,  she  put 
back  to  an  intermediate  port,  and  started 
afresh,  but  only  yet  again  to  return.  Frequent 
fogs  enveloped  her;  so  that  no  observation 
could  be  had  of  her  place,  and  once,  when  all 
hands  were  joyously  anticipating  sight  of  their 
destination,  lo !  the  vapors  lifted  and  disclosed 
the  mountains  from  which  they  had  taken  their 
first  departure.  In  the  like  deceptive  vapors 
she  at  last  struck  upon  a  reef,  whence  en 
sued  a  long  series  of  calamities  too  sad  to 
detail. 

It  was  the  famous  pilot,  Juan  Fernandez, 
immortalized  by  the  island  named  after  him, 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  819 

who  put  an  end  to  these  coasting  tribulations, 
by  boldly  venturing  the  experiment — as  De 
Gama  did  before  him  with  respect  to  Europe 
— of  standing  broad  out  from  land.  Here  he 
found  the  winds  favorable  for  getting  to  the 
South,  and  by  running  westward  till  beyond 
the  influences  of  the  trades,  he  regained  the 
coast  without  difficulty  ;  making  the  passage 
which,  though  in  a  high  degree  circuitous, 
proved  far  more  expeditious  than  the  nomi 
nally  direct  one.  Now  it  was  upon  these  new 
tracks,  and  about  the  year  1670,  or  thereabouts, 
that  the  Enchanted  Isles,  and  the  rest  of  the 
sentinel  groups,  as  they  may  be  called,  were 
discovered.  Though  I  know  of  no  account  as 
to  whether  any  of  them  were  found  inhabited  or 
no,  it  may  be  reasonably  concluded  that  they 
have  been  immemorial  solitudes.  But  let  us 
return  to  Rodondo. 

Southwest  from  our  tower  lies  all  Polyne 
sia,  hundreds  of  leagues  away ;  but  straight 
west,  on  the  precise  line  of  his  parallel,  no 
land  rises  till  your  keel  is  beached  upon  the 
Kingsmills,  a  nice  little  sail  of,  say  5000  miles. 

Having  thus  by   such   distant   references — 


320  THE    PIAZZA     TALES. 

with  Rodondo  the  only  possible  ones — settled 
our  relative  place  on  the  sea,  let  us  consider 
objects  not  quite  so  remote.  Behold  the  grim 
and  charred  Enchanted  Isles.  This  nearest 
crater-shaped  headland  is  part  of  Albemarle, 
the  largest  of  the  group,  being  some  sixty  miles 
or  more  long,  and  fifteen  broad.  Did  you  ever 
lay  eye  on  the  real  genuine  Equator?  Have 
you  ever,  in  the  largest  sense,  toed  the  Line? 
Well,  that  identical  crater-shaped  headland 
there,  all  yellow  lava,  is  cut  by  the  Equator 
exactly  as  a  knife  cuts  straight  through  the 
centre  of  a  pumpkin  pie.  If  you  could  only  see 
so  far,  just  to  one  side  of  that  same  headland, 
across  yon  low  dikey  ground,  you  would  catch 
sight  of  the  isle  of  Narborough,  the  loftiest  land 
of  the  cluster ;  no  soil  whatever ;  one  seamed 
clinker  from  top  to  bottom ;  abounding  in 
black  caves  like  smithies ;  its  metallic  shore 
ringing  under  foot  like  plates  of  iron  ;  its  cen 
tral  volcanoes  standing  grouped  like  a  gigantic 
chimney-stack. 

Narborough  and  Albemarle  are  neighbors 
after  a  quite  curious  fashion.  A  familar  dia 
gram  will  illustrate  this  strange  neighborhood : 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  321 

w 

Cut  a  channel  at  the  above  letter  joint,  and 
the  middle  transverse  limb  is  Narborough,  and 
all  the  rest  is  Albemarle.  Volcanic  Narbo- 
rough  lies  in  the  black  jaws  of  Albemarle  like 
a  wolfs  red  tongue  in  his  open  mouth. 

If  now  you  desire  the  population  of  Albe 
marle,  I  will  give  you,  in  round  numbers,  the 
statistics,  according  to  the  most  reliable  esti 
mates  made  upon  the  spot : 

Men, none. 

Ant-eaters, unknown. 

Man-haters, unknown. 

Lizards, 500,000. 

Snakes, 500,000. 

Spiders, 10,000,000. 

Salamanders,      .....  unknown. 

Devils, do. 

Making  a  clean  total  of      ...  11,000,000, 

exclusive  of  an  incomputable   host  of  fiends, 
ant-eaters,  man-haters,  and  salamanders. 

Albemarle  opens  his  mouth-  towards  the  set 
ting  sun.  His  distended  jaws  form  a  great  bay, 
which  Narbor<5ugh,  his  tongue,  divides  into 
halves,  one  whereof  is  called  Weather  Bay,  the 
other  Lee  Bay ;  while  the  volcanic  promon 
tories,  terminating  his  coasts,  are  styled  South 
14* 


322  THE     PIAZZA      TALES. 

Head  and  North  Head.  I  note  this,  because 
these  bays  are  famous  in  the  annals  of  the 
Sperm  Whale  Fishery.  The  whales  come  here 
at  certain  seasons  to  calve.  When  ships  first 
cruised  hereabouts,  I  am  told,  they  used  to 
blockade  the  entrance  of  Lee  Bay,  when  their 
boats  going  round  by  Weather  Bay,  passed 
through  Narborough  channel,  and  so  had  the 
Leviathans  very  neatly  in  a  pen. 

The  day  after  we  took  fish  at  the  base  of 
this  Round  Tower,  we  had  a  fine  wind,  and 
shooting  round  the  north  headland,  suddenly 
descried  a  fleet  of  full  'thirty  sail,  all  beating  to 
windward  like  a  squadron  in  line.  A  brave 
sight  as  ever  man  saw.  A  most  harmonious 
concord  of  rushing  keels.  Their  thirty  kelsons 
hummed  like  thirty  harp-strings,  and  looked  as 
straight  whilst  they  left  their  parallel  traces  on 
the  sea.  But  there  proved  too  many  hunters 
for  the  game.  The  fleet  broke  up,  and  went 
their  separate  ways  out  of  sight,  leaving  my 
own  ship  and  two  trim  gentlemen  of  London. 
These  last,  finding  no  luck  either,  likewise 
vanished ;  and  Lee  Bay,  with  all  its  appurte 
nances,  and  without  a  rival,  devolved  to  us. 


THE     E  N  C  A  N  T  A  D  A  S  .  323 

The  way  of  cruising  here  is  this.  You  keep 
hovering  about  the  entrance  of  the  bay,  in  one 
beat  and  out  the  next.  But  at  times — not 
always,  as  in  other  parts  of  the  group — a  race 
horse  of  a  current  sweeps  right  across  its 
mouth.  So,  with  all  sails  set,  you  carefully 
ply  your  tacks.  How  often,  standing  at  the 
foremast  head  at  sunrise,  with  our  patient  prow 
pointed  in  between  these  isles,  did  I  gaze  upon 
that  land,  not  of  cakes,  but  of  clinkers,  not  of 
streams  of  sparkling  water,  but  arrested  tor 
rents  of  tormented  lava. 

As  the  ship  runs  in  from  the  open  sea,  Nar- 
borough  presents  its  side  in  one  dark  craggy 
mass,  soaring  up  some  five  or  six  thousand  feet, 
at  which  point  it  hoods  itself  in  heavy  clouds, 
whose  lowest  level  fold  is  as  clearly  defined 
against  the  rocks  as  the  snow-line  against  the 
Andes.  There  is  dire  mischief  going  on  in 
that  upper  dark.  There  toil  the  demons  of 
fire,  who,  at  intervals,  irradiate  the. nights  with 
a  strange  spectral  illumination  for  miles  and 
miles  around,  but  unaccompanied  by  any  fur 
ther  demonstration ;  or  else,  suddenly  announce 
^themselves  by  terrific  concussions,  and  the  full 


324  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

drama  of  a  volcanic  eruption.  The  blacker 
that  cloud  by  day,  the  more  may  you  look  for 
light  by  night.  Often  whalemen  have  found 
themselves  cruising  nigh  that  burning  mountain 
when  all  aglow  with  a  ball-room  blaze.  Or, 
rather,  glass-works,  you  may  call  this  same 
vitreous  isle  of  Narborough,  with  its  tall  chim 
ney-stacks. 

Where  we  still  stand,  here  on  Kodondo,  we 
cannot  see  all  the  other  isles,  but  it  is  a  good 
place  from  which  to  point  out  wrhere  they  lie. 
Yonder,  though,  to  the  E.N.E.,  I  mark  a  dis 
tant  dusky  ridge.  It  is  Abington  Isle,  one  of 
the  most  northerly  of  the  group ;  so  solitary, 
remote,  and  blank,  it  looks  like  No-Man's  Land 
seen  off  our  northern  shore.  I  doubt  whether 
two  human  beings  ever  touched  upon  that 
spot.  So  far  as  yon  Abington  Isle  is  concerned, 
Adam  and  his  billions  of  posterity  remain  un 
created. 

Ranging  south  of  Abington,  and  quite  out 
of  sight  behind  the  long  spine  of  Albemarle, 
lies  James's  Isle,  so  called  by  the  early  Bucca 
neers  after  the  luckless  Stuart,  Duke  of  York. 
Observe  here,  by  the  way,  that,  excepting  the 


THE    ENCANTADAS.  325 

isles  particularized  in  comparatively  recent 
times,  and  which  mostly  received  the  names 
of  famous  Admirals,  the  Encantadas  were  first 
christened  by  the  Spaniards ;  but  these  Spanish 
names  were  generally  effaced  on  English  charts 
by  the  subsequent  christenings  of  the  Bucca 
neers,  who,  in  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  called  them  after  English  noblemen 
and  kings.  Of  these  loyal  freebooters  and  the 
things  which  associate  their  name  with  the 
Encantadas,  we  shall  hear  anon.  Nay,  for  one 
little  item,  immediately;  for  between  James's 
Isle  and  Albemarle,  lies  a  fantastic  islet, 
strangely  known  as  "  Cowley's  Enchanted 
Isle."  But,  as  all  the  group  is  deemed  en 
chanted,  the  reason  must  be  given  for  the  spell 
within  a  spell  involved  by  this  particular  desig 
nation.  The  name  was  bestowed  by  that  ex 
cellent  Buccaneer  himself,  on  his  first  visit 
here.  Speaking  in  his  published  voyages  of 
this  spot,  he  says — "  My  fancy  led  me  to  call  it 
Cowley's  Enchanted  Isle,  for,  we  having  had  a 
sight  of  it  upon  several  points  of  the  compass, 
it  appeared  always  in  so  many  different  forms ; 
sometimes  like  a  ruined  fortification;  upon 


326  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

another  point  like  a  great  city,"  etc.  No 
wonder  though,  that  among  the  Encantadas  all 
sorts  of  ocular  deceptions  and  mirages  should 
be  met. 

That  Cowley  linked  his  name  with  this  self- 
transforming  and  bemocking  isle,  suggests  the 
possibility  that  it  conveyed  to  him  some  medi 
tative  image  of  himself.  At  least,  as  is  not  im 
possible,  if  he  were  any  relative  of  the  mildly- 
thoughtful  and  self-upbraiding  poet  Cowley, 
who  lived  about  his  time,  the  conceit  might 
seem  unwarranted;  for  that  sort  of  thing 
evinced  in  the  naming  of  this  isle  runs  in  the 
blood,  and  may  be  seen  in  pirates  as  in  poets. 

Still  south  of  James's  Isle  lie  Jervis  Isle, 
Duncan  Isle,  Grossman's  Isle,  Brattle  Isle, 
Wood's  Isle,  Chatham  Isle,  and  various  lesser 
isles,  for  the  most  part  an  archipelago  of  aridi 
ties,  without  inhabitant,  history,  or  hope  of 
either  in  all  time  to  come.  But  not  far  from 
these  are  rather  notable  isles  —  Harrington, 
Charles's,  Norfolk,  and  Hood's.  Succeeding 
chapters  will  reveal  some  ground  for  their  nota 
bility. 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  327 

SKETCH  FIFTH. 

THE    FRIGATE,  AND    SHIP    FLYAWAY. 

"  Looking  far  forth  into  the  ocean  wide, 
A  goodly  ship  with  banners  bravely  dight, 
And  flag  in  her  top-gallant  I  espide, 
Through  the  main  sea  making  her  merry  flight." 

Ere  quitting  Rodondo,  it  must  not  be  omit 
ted  that  here,  in  1813,  the  U.  S.  frigate  Essex, 
Captain  David  Porter,  came  near  leaving  her 
bones.  Lying  becalmed  one  morning  with  a 
strong  current  setting  her  rapidly  towards  the 
rock,  a  strange  sail  was  descried,  which — not 
out  of  keeping  with  alleged  enchantments  of 
the  neighborhood — seemed  to  be  staggering 
under  a  violent  wind,  while  the  frigate  lay 
lifeless  as  if  spell-bound.  But  a  light  air 
springing  up,  all  sail  was  made  by  the  frigate 
in  chase  of  the  enemy,  as  supposed — he  being 
deemed  an  English  whale-ship — but  the  ra 
pidity  of  the  current  was  so  great,  that  soon  all 
sight  was  lost  of  him;  and,  at  meridian,  the 
Essex,  spite  of  her  drags,  was  driven  so  close 
under  the  foam-lashed  cliffs  of  Rodondo  that,  for 
a  time,  all  hands  gave  her  up.  A  smart  breeze, 
however,  at  last  helped  her  off,  though  the  escape 
was  so  critical  as  to  seem  almost  miraculous. 


328  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

Thus  saved  from  destruction  herself,  she  now 
made  use  of  that  salvation  to  destroy  the  other 
vessel,  if  possible.  Renewing  the  chase  in  the 
direction  in  which  the  stranger  had  disap 
peared,  sight  was  caught  of  him  the  following 
morning.  Upon  being  descried  he  hoisted 
American  colors  and  stood  away  from  the  Es 
sex.  A  calm  ensued;  when,  still  confident 
that  the  stranger  was  an  Englishman,  Porter 
dispatched  a  cutter,  not  to  board  the  enemy, 
but  drive  back  his  boats  engaged  in  towing 
him.  The  cutter  succeeded.  Cutters  were 
subsequently  sent  to  capture  him ;  the  stranger 
now  showing  English  colors  in  place  of  Ameri 
can.  But,  when  the  frigate's  boats  were  with 
in  a  short  distance  of  their  hoped-for  prize, 
another  sudden  breeze  sprang  up;  the  stranger, 
under  all  sail,  bore  off  to  the  westward,  and, 
ere  night,  was  hull  down  ahead  of  the  Essex, 
which,  all  this  time,  lay  perfectly  becalmed. 

This  enigmatic  craft — American  in  the  morn 
ing,  and  English  in  the  evening — her  sails  full 
of  wind  in  a  calm — was  never  again  beheld. 
An  enchanted  ship  no  doubt.  So,  at  least,  the 
sailors  swore. 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  329 

This  cruise  of  the  Essex  in  the  Pacific  during 
the  war  of  1812,  is,  perhaps,  the  strangest  and 
most  stirring  to  be  found  in  the  history  of  the 
American  navy.  She  captured  the  furthest 
wandering  vessels;  visited  the  remotest  seas 
and  isles ;  long  hovered  in  the  charmed  vicinity 
of  the  enchanted  group;  and,  finally,  valiantly 
gave  up  the  ghost  fighting  two  English  frigates 
in  the  harbor  of  Valparaiso.  Mention  is  made 
of  her  here  for  the  same  reason  that  the  Bucca 
neers  will  likewise  receive  record;  because, 
like  them,  by  long  cruising  among  the  isles, 
tortoise-hunting  upon  their  shores,  and  gener 
ally  exploring  them;  for  these  and  other  rea 
sons,  the  Essex  is  peculiarly  associated  with 
the  Encantadas. 

Here  be  it  said  that  you  have  but  three  eye 
witness  authorities  worth  mentioning  touching 
the  Enchanted  Isles  : — Cowley,  the  Buccaneer 
(1684) ;  Colnet,  the  whaling-ground  explorer 
(1798);  Porter,  the  post  captain  (1813).  Other 
than  these  you  have  but  barren,  bootless  allu 
sions  from  some  few  passing  voyagers  or  com 
pilers. 


330 


THE      PIAZZA     TALES. 


SKETCH  SIXTH. 

BAKKINGTON    ISLE    AND    THE    BUCCANEERS. 

"  Let  us  all  servile  base  subjection  scorn, 
And  as  we  be  sons  of  the  earth  so  wide, 
Let  us  our  father's  heritage  divide, 
And  challenge  to  ourselves  our  portions  dew 
Of  all  the  patrimony,  which  a  few 
Now  hold  on  hugger-mugger  in  their  hand.'; 
•*##*-*##-x- 

"  Lords  of  the  world,  and  so  will  wander  free, 
Whereso  us  listeth,  uncontroll'd  of  any." 
*        #        *        #        #•     -    •*        *•        # 

"  How  bravely  now  we  live,  how  jocund,  how  near  the 
first  inheritance,  without  fear,  how  free  from  little  troubles !" 

Near  two  centuries  ago  Barrington  Isle  was 
the  resort  of  that  famous  wing  of  the  West 
Indian  Buccaneers,  which,  upon  their  repulse 
from  the  Cuban  waters,  crossing  the  Isthmus  of 
Darien,  ravaged  the  Pacific  side  of  the  Spanish 
colonies,  and,  with  the  regularity  and  timing 
of  a  modern  mail,  waylaid  the  royal  treasure- 
ships  plying  between  Manilla  and  Acapulco. 
After  the  toils  of  piratic  war,  here  they  came 
to  say  their  prayers,  enjoy  their  free-and-easies, 
count  their  crackers  from  the  cask,  their  doub 
loons  from  the  keg,  and  measure  their  silks  of 
Asia  with  long  Toledos  for  their  yard-sticks. 


THE    ENCANTADAS.  331 

As  a  secure  retreat,  an  undiscoverable  hiding- 
place,  no  spot  in  those  days  could  have  been 
better  fitted.  In  the  centre  of  a  vast  and  silent 
sea,  but  very  little  traversed — surrounded  by 
islands,  whose  inhospitable  aspect  might  well 
drive  away  the  chance  navigator  —  and  yet 
within  a  few  days'  sail  of  the  opulent  countries 
which  they  made  their  prey — the  unmolested 
Buccaneers  found  here  that  tranquillity  which 
they  fiercely  denied  to  every  civilized  harbor  in 
that  part  of  the  world.  Here,  after  stress  of 
weather,  or  a  temporary  drubbing  at  the  hands 
of  their  vindictive  foes,  or  in  swift  flight  with 
golden  booty,  those  old  marauders  came,  and 
lay  snugly  out  of  all  harm's  reach.  But  not 
only  was  the  place  a  harbor  of  safety,  and  a 
bower  of  ease,  but  for  utility  in  other  things 
it  was  most  admirable. 

Barrington  Isle  is,  in  many  respects,  singu 
larly  adapted  to  careening,  refitting,  refreshing, 
and  other  seamen's  purposes.  Not  only  has  it 
good  water,  and  good  anchorage,  well  sheltered 
from  all  winds  by  the  high  land  of  Albemarle, 
but  it  is  the  least  unproductive  isle  of  the 
group.  Tortoises  good  for  food,  trees  good  for 


332  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

fuel,  and  long  grass  good  for  bedding,  abound 
here,  and  there  are  pretty  natural  walks,  and 
several  landscapes  to  be  seen.  Indeed,  though 
in  its  locality  belonging  to  the  Enchanted 
group,  Barrington  Isle  is  so  unlike  most  of  its 
neighbors,  that  it  would  hardly  seem  of  kin  to 
them. 

"I  once  landed  on  its  western  side,"  says  a 
sentimental  voyager  long  ago,  "where  it  faces 
the  black  buttress  of  Albemarle.  I  walked 
beneath  groves  of  trees — not  very  lofty,  and  not 
palm  trees,  or  orange  trees,  or  peach  trees,  to 
be  sure — but,  for  all  that,  after  long  sea-faring, 
very  beautiful  to  walk  under,  even  though 
they  supplied  no  fruit.  And  here,  in  calm 
spaces  at  the  heads  of  glades,  and  on  the  shaded 
tops  of  slopes  commanding  the  most  quiet  scen 
ery — what  do  you  think  I  saw?  Seats  which 
might  have  served  Brahmins  and  presidents  of 
peace  societies.  Fine  old  ruins  of  what  had 
once  been  symmetric  lounges  of  stone  and  turf, 
they  bore  every  mark  both  of  artificialness  and 
age,  and  were,  undoubtedly,  made  by  the  Buc 
caneers.  One  had  been  a  long  sofa,  with  back 
and  arms,  just  such  a  sofa  as  the  poet  Gray 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  333 

might  have  loved  to  throw  himself  upon,  his 
Crebillon  in  hand. 

"Though  they  sometimes  tarried  here  for 
months  at  a  time,  and  used  the  spot  for  a 
storing-place  for  spare  spars,  sails,  and  casks; 
yet  it  is  highly  improbable  that  the  Buccaneers 
ever  erected  dwelling-houses  upon  the  isle. 
They  never  were  here  except  their  ships  re 
mained,  and  they  would  most  likely  have  slept 
on  board.  I  mention  this,  because  I  cannot 
avoid  the  thought,  that  it  is  hard  to  impute  the 
construction  of  these  romantic  seats  to  any 
other  motive  than  one  of  pure  peacefulness  and 
kindly  fellowship  with  nature.  That  the  Buc 
caneers  perpetrated  the  greatest  outrages  is 
very  true — that  some  of  them  were  mere  cut 
throats  is  not  to  be  denied ;  but  we  know  that 
here  and  there  among  their  host  was  a  Dam- 
pier,  a  Wafer,  and  a  Cowley,  and  likewise 
other  men,  whose  worst  reproach  was  their 
desperate  fortunes — whom  persecution,  or  ad 
versity,  or  secret  and  unavengeable  wrongs, 
had  driven  from  Christian  society  to  seek  the 
melancholy  solitude  or  the  guilty  adventures 
of  the  sea.  At  any  rate,  long  as  those  ruins  of 


334  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

seats  on  Barrington  remain,  the  most  singular 
monuments  are  furnished  to  the  fact,  that  all 
of  the  Buccaneers  were  not  unmitigated  mon 
sters. 

"But  during  my  ramble  on  the  isle  I  was  not 
long  in  discovering  other  tokens,  of  things  quite 
in  accordance  with  those  wild  traits,  popularly, 
and  no  doubt  truly  enough,  imputed  to  the  free 
booters  at  large.  Had  I  picked  up  old  sails 
and  rusty  hoops  I  would  only  have  thought  of 
the  ship's  carpenter  and  cooper.  But  I  found 
old  cutlasses  and  daggers  reduced  to  mere 
threads  of  rust,  which,  doubtless,  had  stuck  be 
tween  Spanish  ribs  ere  now.  These  were  signs 
of  the  murderer  and  robber  ;  the  reveler  like 
wise  had  left  his  trace.  Mixed  with  shells, 
fragments  of  broken  jars  were  lying  here  and 
there,  high  up  upon  the  beach.  They  were 
precisely  like  the  jars  now  used  upon  the  Span 
ish  coast  for  the  wine  and  Pisco  spirits  of  that 
country. 

"  With  a  rusty  dagger-fragment  in  one  hand, 
and  a  bit  of  a  wine-jar  in  another,  I  sat  me 
down  on  the  ruinous  green  sofa  I  have  spoken 
of,  and  bethought  me  long  and  deeply  of  these 


THE    ENCANTADAS.  335 

same  Buccaneers.  Could  it  be  possible,  that 
they  robbed  and  murdered  one  day,  reveled 
the  next,  and  rested  themselves  by  turning 
meditative  philosophers,  rural  poets,  and  seat- 
builders  on  the  third?  Not  very  improbable, 
after  all.  For  consider  the  vacillations  of  a 
man.  Still,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  I  must 
also  abide  by  the  more  charitable  thought; 
namely,  that  among  these  adventurers  were 
some  gentlemanly,  companionable  souls,  capable 
of  genuine  tranquillity  and  virtue." 


830  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 


SKETCH   SEVENTH. 


CIIAKLES  S    ISLE    AND    THE    DOG-KING. 


So  with  outragious  cry, 


A  thousand  villeins  round  about  him  swarmed 
Out  of  the  rocks  and  caves  adjoining  nye  ; 
Yile  caitive  wretches,  ragged,  rude,  deformed  ; 
All  threatning  death,  all  in  straunge  manner  armed  ; 
Some  with  unweldy  elubs,  some  with  long  speares, 
Some  rusty  knives,  some  staves  in  fier  warmd. 
#        •&#•*•*#        •* 

We  will  not  be  of  any  occupation, 
Let  such  vile  vassals,  born  to  base  vocation, 
Drudge  in  the  world,  and  for  their  living  droyle, 
Which  have  no  wit  to  live  withouten  toyle. 

Southwest  of  Barrington  lies  Charles's  Isle. 
And  hereby  hangs  a  history  which  I  gathered 
long  ago  from  a  shipmate  learned  in  all  the 
lore  of  outlandish  life. 

During  the  successful  revolt  of  the  Spanish 
provinces  from  Old  Spain,  there  fought  on 
behalf  of  Peru  a  certain  Creole  adventurer  from 
Cuba,  who,  by  his  bravery  and  good  fortune,  at 
length  advanced  himself  to  high  rank  in  the 
patriot  army.  The  war  being  ended,  Peru 
found  itself  like  many  valorous  gentlemen,  free 
and  independent  enough,  but  with  few  shot  in 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  337 

the  locker.  In  other  words,  Peru  had  not 
wherewithal  to  pay  off  its  troops.  But  the 
Creole — I  forget  his  name — volunteered  to  take 
his  pay  in  lands.  Sot  they  told  him  he  might 
have  his  pick  of  the  Enchanted  Isles,  which 
were  then,  as  they  still  remain,  the  nominal  ap 
panage  of  Peru.  The  soldier  straightway  em 
barks  thither,  explores  the  group,  returns  to 
Callao,and  says  he  will  take  a  deed  of  Charles's 
Isle.  Moreover,  this  deed  must  stipulate  that 
thenceforth  Charles's  Isle  is  not  only  the  sole 
property  of  the  Creole,  but  is  forever  free  of. 
Peru,  even  as  Peru  of  Spain.  To  be  short,  this 
adventurer  procures  himself  to  be  made  in  effect 
Supreme  Lord  of  the  Island,  one  of  the  princes 
of  the  powers  of  the  earth.* 

He  now  sends  forth  a  proclamation  inviting 
subjects  to  his  as  yet  unpopulated  kingdom. 
Some  eighty  souls,  men  and  women,  respond ; 

*  The  American  Spaniards  have  long  been  in  the  habit 
of  making  presents  of  islands  to  deserving  individuals.  The 
pilot  Juan  Fernandez  procured  a  deed  of  the  isle  named  after 
him,  and  for  some  years  resided  there  before  Selkirk  came. 
It  is  supposed,  however,  that  he  eventually  contracted  the 
blues  upon  his  princely  property,  for  after  a  time  he  return 
ed  to  the  main,  and  as  report  goes,  became  a  very  garrulous 
barber  in  the  city  of  Lima. 
15 


338  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

and  being  provided  by  their  leader  with  neces 
saries,  and  tools  of  various  sorts,  together  with 
a  few  cattle  and  goats,  take  ship  for  the  pro 
mised  land ;  the  -last  arrival  on  board,  prior  to 
sailing,  being  the  Creole  himself,  accompanied, 
strange  to  say,  by  a  disciplined  cavalry  com 
pany  of  large  grim  dogs.  These,  it  was  ob 
served  on  the  passage,  refusing  to  consort  with 
the  emigrants,  remained  aristocratically  grouped 
around  their  master  on  the  elevated  quarter 
deck,  casting  disdainful  glances  forward  upon 
the  inferior  rabble  there;  much  as,  from  the 
ramparts,  the  soldiers  of  a  garrison,  thrown  into 
a  conquered  town,  eye  the  inglorious  citizen- 
mob  over  which  they  are  set  to  watch. 

Now  Charles's  Isle  not  only  resembles  Bar- 
rington  Isle  in  being  much  more  inhabitable 
than  other  parts  of  the  group,  but  it  is  double 
the  size  of  Barrington,  say  forty  or  fifty  miles 
in  circuit. 

Safely  debarked  at  last,  the  company,  under 
direction  of  their  lord  and  patron,  forthwith 
proceeded  to  build  their  capital  city.  They 
make  considerable  advance  in  the  way  of  walls 
of  clinkers,  and  lava  floors,  nicely  sanded  with 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  339 

cinders.  On  the  least  barren  hills  they  pasture 
their  cattle,  while  the  goats,  adventurers  by 
nature,  explore  the  far  inland  solitudes  for  a 
scanty  livelihood  of  lofty  herbage.  Meantime, 
abundance  of  fish  and  tortoises  supply  their 
other  wants. 

The  disorders  incident  to  settling  all  primitive 
regions,  in  the  present  case  were  heightened  by 
the  peculiarly  untoward  character  of  many  of 
the  pilgrims.  His  Majesty  was  forced  at  last 
to  proclaim  martial  law,  and  actually  hunted 
-and  shot  with  his  own  hand  several  of  his  rebel 
lious  subjects,  who,  with  most  questionable 
intentions,  had  clandestinely  encamped  in  the 
interior,  whence  they  stole  by  night,  to  prowl 
barefooted  on  tiptoe  round  the  precincts  of  the 
lava-palace.  It  is  to  be  remarked,  however, 
that  prior  to  such  stern  proceedings,  the  more 
reliable  men  had  been  judiciously  picked  out 
for  an  infantry  body-guard,  subordinate  to  the 
cavalry  body-guard  of  dogs.  But  the  state  of 
politics  in  this  unhappy  nation  may  be  some 
what  imagined,  from  the  circumstance  that  all 
who  were  not  of  the  body-guard  were  down 
right  plotters  and  malignant  traitors.  At  length 


340  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

the  death  penalty  was  tacitly  abolished,  owing 
to  the  timely  thought,  that  were '  strict  sports 
man's  justice  to  be  dispensed  among  such 
subjects,  ere  long  the  Nimrod  King  would  have 
little  or  no  remaining  game  to  shoot.  The  hu 
man  part  of  the  life-guard  was  now  disbanded, 
and  set  to  work  cultivating  the  soil,  and  raising 
potatoes  ;  the  regular  army  now  solely  consist 
ing  of  the  dog-regiment.  These,  as  I  have 
heard,  were  of  a  singularly  ferocious  character, 
though  by  severe  training  rendered  docile  to 
their  master.  Armed  to  the  teeth,  the  Creole 
now  goes  in  state,  surrounded  by  his  canine 
janizaries,  whose  terrific  bayings  prove  quite 
as  serviceable  as  bayonets  in  keeping  down  the 
surgings  of  revolt, 

But  the  census  of  the  isle,  sadly  lessened  by 
the  dispensation  of  justice,  and  not  materially 
recruited  by  matrimony,  began  to  fill  his  mind 
with  sad  mistrust.  Some  way  the  population 
must  be  increased.  Now,  from  its  possessing  a 
little  water,  and  its  comparative  pleasantness  of 
aspect,  Charles's  Isle  at  this  period  was  occa 
sionally  visited  by  foreign  whalers.  These  His 
Majesty  had  always  levied  upon  for  port  charges, 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  341 

thereby  contributing  to  his  revenue.  But  now 
he  had  additional  designs.  By  insidious  arts  he, 
from  time  to  time,  cajoles  certain  sailors  to 
desert  their  ships,  and  enlist  beneath  his  banner. 
Soon  as  missed,  their  captains  crave  permission 
to  go  and  hunt  them  up.  Whereupon  His 
Majesty  first  hides  them  very  carefully  away, 
and  then  freely  permits  the  search.  In  con 
sequence,  the  delinquents  are  never  found,  and 
the  ships  retire  without  them. 
'  Thus,  by  a  two-edged  policy  of  this  crafty 
monarch,  foreign  nations  were  crippled  in  the 
number  of  their  subjects,  and  his  own  were 
greatly  multiplied.  He  particularly  petted 
these  renegado  strangers.  But  alas  for  the 
deep-laid  schemes  of  ambitious  princes,  and 
alas  for  the  vanity  of  glory.  As  the  foreign- 
born  Pretorians,  unwisely  introduced  into  the 
Koman  state,  and  still  more  unwisely  made 
favorites  of  the  Emperors,  at  last  insulted  and 
overturned  the  throne,  even  so  these  lawless 
mariners,  with  all  the  rest  of  the  body-guard 
and  all  the  populace,  broke  out  into  a  terrible 
mutiny,  and  defied  their  master.  He  marched 
against  them  with  all  his  dogs.  A  deadly  bat- 


342  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

tie  ensued  upon  the  beach.  It  raged  for  three 
hours,  the  dogs  fighting  with  determined  valor, 
and  the  sailors  reckless  of  everything  but  vic 
tory.  Three  men  and  thirteen  dogs  were  left 
dead  upon  the  field,  many  on  both  sides  were 
wounded,  and  the  king  was  forced'  to  fly  with 
the  remainder  of  his  canine  regiment.  The 
enemy  pursued,  stoning  the  dogs  with  their 
master  into  the  wilderness  of  the  interior.  Dis 
continuing  the  pursuit,  the  victors  returned  to 
the  village  on  the  shore,  stove  the  spirit  casks, 
and  proclaimed  a  Kepublic.  The  dead  men 
were  interred  with  the  honors  of  war,  and  the 
dead  dogs  ignominiously  thrown  into  the  sea. 
At  last,  forced  by  stress  of  suffering,  the  fugi 
tive  Creole  came  down  from  the  hills  and 
offered  to  treat  for  peace.  But  the  rebels  re 
fused  it  on  any  other  terms  than  his  uncondi 
tional  banishment.  Accordingly,  the  next  ship 
that  arrived  carried  away  the  ex-king  to  Peru. 

The  history  of  the  king  of  Charles's  Island 
furnishes  another  illustration  of  the  difficulty  of 
colonizing  barren  islands  with  unprincipled  pil 
grims. 

Doubtless  for. a  long  time  the  exiled  monarch, 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  343 

pensively  ruralizing  in  Peru,  which  afforded  him 
a  safe  asylum  in  his  calamity,  watched  every 
arrival  from  the  Encantadas,  to  hear  news  of 
the  failure  of  the  Republic,  the  consequent 
penitence  of  the  rebels,  and  his  own  recall  to 
royalty.  Doubtless  he  deemed  the  Republic 
but  a  miserable  experiment  which  would  soon 
explode.  But  no,  the  insurgents  had  confeder 
ated  themselves  into  a  democracy  neither  Gre 
cian,  Roman,  nor  American.  Nay,  it  was  no 
democra'cy  at  all,  but  a  permanent  Riotocracy, 
which  gloried  in  having  no  law  but  lawlessness. 
Great  inducements  being  'offered  to  deserters, 
their  ranks  were  swelled  by  accessions  of 
scamps  from  every  ship  which  touched  their 
shores.  Charles's  Island  was  proclaimed  the 
asylum  of  the  oppressed  of  all  navies.  Each 
runaway  tar  was  hailed  as  a  martyr  in  the  cause 
of  freedom,  and  became  immediately  installed 
a  ragged  citizen  of  this  universal  nation.  In 
vain  the  captains  of  absconding  seamen  strove 
to  regain  them.  Their  new  compatriots  were 
ready  to  give  any  number  of  ornamental  eyes 
in  their  behalf.  They  had  few  cannon,  but 
their  fists  were  not  to  be  trifled  with.  So  at 


344  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

last  it  came  to  pass  that  no  vessels  acquainted 
with  the  character  of  that  country  durst  touch 
there,  however  sorely  in  want  of  refreshment. 
It  became  Anathema — a  sea  Alsatia — the  unas- 
sailed  lurking-place  of  all  sorts  of  desperadoes, 
who  in  the  name  of  liberty  did  just  what  they 
pleased.  They  continually  fluctuated  in  their 
numbers.  Sailors,  deserting  ships  at  other  isl 
ands,  or  in  boats  at  sea  anywhere  in  that 
vicinity,  steered  for  Charles's  Isle,  as  to  their 
sure  home  of  refuge  ;  while,  sated  with  the  life 
of  the  isle,  numbers  from  time  to  time  crossed 
the  water  to  the  neighboring  ones,  and  there 
presenting  themselves  to  strange  captains  as 
shipwrecked  seamen,  often  succeeded  in  get 
ting  on  board  vessels  bound  to  the  Spanish 
coast,  and  having  a  compassionate  purse  made 
up  for  them  on  landing  there. 

One  warm  night  during  my  first  visit  to  the 
group,  our  ship  was  floating  along  in  languid 
stillness,  when  some  one  on  the  forecastle  shout 
ed  "  Light  ho  !"  We  looked  and  saw  a  beacon 
burning  on  some  obscure  land  off  the  beam. 
Our  third  mate  was  not  intimate  with  this  part 
of  the  world.  Going  to  the  captain  he  said, 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  345 

"  Sir,  shall  I  put  off  in  a  boat?    These  must  be 
shipwrecked  men." 

The  captain  laughed  rather  grimly,  as,  shak 
ing  his  fist  towards  the  beacon,  he  rapped  out 
an  oath,  and  said — "  No,  no,  you  precious  ras 
cals,  you  don't  juggle  one  of  my  boats  ashore 
this  blessed  night.  You  do  well,  you  thieves — 
you  do  benevolently  to  hoist  a  light  yonder  as 
on  a  dangerous  shoal.  It  tempts  no  wise  man 
to  pull  off  and  see  what's  the  matter,  but  bids 
him  steer  small  and  keep  off  shore — that  is 
Charles's  Island  ;  brace  up,  Mr.  Mate,  and  keep 
the  light  astern." 
15* 


r 


S46  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

SKETCH  EIGHTH. 

NORFOLK  ISLE  AND  THE  CHOLA  WIDOW. 

"  At  last  they  in  an  island  did  espy 
A  seemly  woman  sitting  by  the  shore, 
That  with  great  sorrow  and  sad  agony 
Seemed  some  great  misfortune  to  deplore, 
And  loud  to  them  for  succor  called  evermore." 

"  Black  his  eye  as  the  midnight  sky. 
White  his  neck  as  the  driven  snow, 
Bed  his  cheek  as  the  morning  light ; — 
Cold  he  lies  in  the  ground  below. 

My  love  is  dead, 

Gone  to  his  death-bed,ys 
All  under  the  cactus  tree." 

"  Each  lonely  scene  shall  thee  restore, 
For  thee  the  tear  be  duly  shed ; 
Belov'd  till  life  can  charm  no  more, 
And  mourned  till  Pity's  self  be  dead." 

Far  to  the  northeast  of  Charles's  Isle,  se 
questered  from'  the  rest,  lies  Norfolk  Isle  ;  and, 
however  insignificant  to  most  voyagers,  to  me, 
through  sympathy,  that  lone  island  has  become 
a  spot  made  sacred  by  the  strangest  trials  of 
humanity.  . 

It  was  my  first  visit  to  the  Encantadas.  Two 
days  had  been  spent  ashore  in  hunting  tortoises. 


THE     ENOANTADAS.  ,'       347 

There  was  not  time  to  capture  many  ;  so  on  the 
third  afternoon  we  loosed  our  sails.  We  were 
just  in  the  act  of  getting  under  way,  the  up 
rooted  anchor  yet  suspended  and  invisibly  sway 
ing  beneath  the  wave,  as  the  good  ship  gradu 
ally  turned  her  heel  to  leave  the  isle  behind, 
when  the  seaman  who  heaved  with  me  at  the 
windlass  paused  suddenly,  and  directed  my  at 
tention  to  something  moving  on  the  land,  not 
along  the  beach,  but  somewhat  back,  fluttering 
from  a  height. 

In  view  of  the  sequel  of  this  little  story,  be 
it  here  narrated  how  it  came  to  pass,  that  an 
object  which  partly  from  its  being  so  small  was 
quite  lost  to  every  other  man  on  board,  still 
caught  the  eye  of  my  handspike  companion. 
The  rest  of  the  crew,  myself  included,  merely 
stood  up  to  our  spikes  in  heaving,  whereas, 
unwontedly  exhilarated,  at  every  turn  of  the 
ponderous  windlass,  my  belted  comrade  leaped 
atop  of  it,  with  might  and  main  giving  a  down 
ward,  thewey,  perpendicular  heave,  his  raised 
eye  bent  in  cheery  animation  upon  the  slowly 
receding  shore.  Being  high  lifted  above  all 
others  was  the  reason  he  perceived  the  object, 


348  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

otherwise  unperceivable  ;  and  this  elevation  of 
his  eye  was  owing  to  the  elevation  of  his  spir 
its  ;  and  this  again — for  truth  must  out — to  a 
dram  of  Peruvian  pisco,  in  guerdon  for  some 
kindness  done,  secretly  administered  to  him  that 
morning  by  our  mulatto  steward.  Now,  cer 
tainly,  pisco  does  a  deal  of  mischief  in  the  world ; 
yet  seeing  that,  in  the  present  case,  it  was  the 
means,  though  indirect,  of  rescuing  a  human 
being  from  the  most  dreadful  fate,  must  we  not 
also  needs  admit  that  sometimes  pisco  does  a 
deal  of  good  ? 

Glancing  across  the  water  in  the  direction 
pointed  out,  I  saw  some  white  thing  hanging 
from  an  inland  rock,  perhaps  half  a  mile  from 
the  sea. 

'*  It  is  a  bird  ;  a  white-winged  bird  ;  perhaps 
a no  ;  it  is- it  is  a  handkerchief!" 

^  Ay,  a  handkerchief  !"  echoed  my  comrade, 
and  with  a  louder  shout  apprised  the  captain. 

Quickly  now — like  the  running  out  and  train 
ing  of  a  great  gun — the  long  cabin  spy-glass 
was  thrust  through  the  mizzen  rigging  from  the 
high  platform  of  the  poop ;  whereupon  a  human 
figure  was  plainly  seen  upon  the  inland  rock. 


THE    ENCANTADAS.  349 

eagerly  waving  towards  us  what  seemed  to  be 
the  handkerchief. 

Our  captain  was  a  prompt,  good  fellow. 
Dropping  the  glass,  he  lustily  ran  forward,  or 
dering  the  anchor  to  be  dropped  again  ;  hands 
to  stand  by  a  boat,  and  lower  away. 

In  a  half-hour's  time  the  swift  boat  returned. 
It  went  with  six  and  came  with  seven  ;  and  the 
seventh  was  a  woman. 

It  is  not  artistic  heartlessness,  but  I  wish  I 
could  but  draw  in  crayons  ;  for  this  woman  was 
a  most  touching  sight;  and  crayons,  tracing 
softly  melancholy  lines,  would  best  depict  the 
mournful  image  of  the  dark-damasked  Chola 
widow. 

Her  story  was  soon  told,  and  though  given 
in  her  own  strange  language  was  as  quickly 
understood ;  for  our  captain,  from  long  trading 
on  the  Chilian  coast,  was  well  versed  in  the 
Spanish.  A  Cholo,  or  half-breed  Indian  woman 
of  Payta  in  Peru,  three  years  gone  by,  with 
her  young  new-wedded  husband  Felipe,  of  pure 
Castilian  blood,  and  her  one  only  Indian  brother, 
Truxill,  Hunilla  had  taken  passage  on  the  main 
in  a  French  whaler,  commanded  by  a  joyous 


350  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

man ;  which  vessel,  bound  to  the  cruising 
grounds  beyond  the  Enchanted  Isles,  proposed 
passing  close  by  their  vicinity.  The  object  of 
the  little  party  was  to  procure  tortoise  oil,  a 
fluid  which  for  its  great  purity  and  delicacy  is 
held  in  high  estimation  wherever  known ;  and 
it  is  well  known  all  along  this  part  of  the  Pa 
cific  coast.  With  a  chest  of  clothes,  tools, 
cooking  utensils,  a  rude  apparatus  for  trying 
out  the  oil,  some  casks  of  biscuit,  and  other 
things,  not  omitting  two  favorite  dogs,  of  which 
faithful  animal  all  the  Cholos  are  very  fond, 
Hunilla  and  her  companions  were  safely  landed 
at  their  chosen  place  ;  the  Frenchman,  accord 
ing  to  the  contract  made  ere  sailing,  'engaged 
to  take  them  off  upon  returning  from  a  four 
months'  cruise  in  the  westward  seas ;  which 
interval  the  three  adventurers  deemed  quite  suf 
ficient  for  their  purposes. 

On  the  isle's  lone  beach  they  paid  him  in  sil 
ver  for  their  passage  out,  the  stranger  having 
declined  to  carry  them  at  all  except  upon  that 
condition  ;  though  willing  to  take  every  means 
to  insure  the  due  fulfillment  of  his  promise. 
Felipe  had  striven  hard  to  have  this  payment 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  351 

put  off  to  the  period  of  the  ship's  return.  But 
in  vain.  Still  they  thought  they  had,  in 
another  way,  ample  pledge  of  the  good  faith  of 
the  Frenchman.  It  was  arranged  that  the  ex 
penses  of  the  passage  home  should  not  be  paya 
ble  in  silver,  but  in  tortoises  ;  one  hundred  tor 
toises  ready  captured  to  the  returning  captain's 
hand.  These  the  Cholos  meant  to  secure  after 
their  own  work  was  done,  against  the  probable 
time  of  the  Frenchman's  coming  back  ;  and  no 
doubt  in  prospect  already  felt,  that  in  those 
hundred  tortoises — now  somewhere  ranging 
the  isle's  interior — they  possessed  one  hundred 
hostages.  Enough :  the  vessel  sailed ;  the 
gazing  three  on  shore  answered  the  loud  glee 
of  the  singing  crew ;  and  ere  evening,  the 
French  craft  was  hull  down  in  the  distant  sea, 
its  masts  three  faintest  lines  which  quickly 
faded  from  Hunilla's  eye. 

The  stranger  had  given  a  blithesome  promise, 
and  anchored  it  with  oaths;  but  oaths  and 
anchors  equally  will  drag ;  naught  else  abides 
on  fickle  earth  but  unkept  promises  of  joy. 
Contrary  winds  from  out  unstable  skies,  or 
contrary  moods  of  his  more  varying  mind,  or 


352  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

shipwreck  and  sudden  death  in  solitary  waves  ; 
whatever  was  the  cause,  the  blithe  stranger 
never  was  seen  again. 

Yet,  however  dire  a  calamity  was  here  in 
store,  misgivings  of  it  ere  due  time  never  dis 
turbed  the  Cholos'  busy  mind,  now  all  intent 
upon  the  toilsome  matter  which  had  brought 
them  hither.  Nay,  by  swift  doom  coming  like 
the  thief  at  night,  ere  seven  weeks  went  by, 
two  of  the  little  party  were  removed  from  all 
anxieties  of  land  or  sea.  No  more  they  sought 
to  gaze  with  feverish  fear,  or  still  more  feverish 
hope,  beyond  the  present's  horizon  line  ;  but 
into  the  furthest  future  their  own  silent  spirits 
sailed.  By  persevering  labor  beneath  that  burn 
ing  sun,  Felipe  and  Truxill  had  brought  down 
to  their  hut  many  scores  of  tortoises,  and  tried 
out  the  oil,  when,  elated  with  their  good  suc 
cess,  and  to  reward  themselves  for  such  hard 
work,  they,  too  hastily,  made  a  catamaran,  or 
Indian  raft,  much  used  on  the  Spanish  main, 
and  merrily  started  on  a  fishing  trip,  just  with 
out  a  long  reef  with  many  jagged  gaps,  run 
ning  parallel  with  the  shore,  about  half  a  mile 
from  it.  By  some  bad  tide  or  hap,  or  natural 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  353 

negligence  of  joyfulness  (for  though  they  could 
not  be  heard,  yet  by  their  gestures  they  seemed 
singing  at  the  time)  forced  in  deep  water  against 
that  iron  bar,  the  ill-made  catamaran  was  over 
set,  and  came  all  to  pieces  ;  when  dashed  by 
broad-chested  swells  between  their  broken 
logs  and  the  sharp  teeth  of  the  reef,  both  ad 
venturers  perished  before  Hunilla's  eyes. 

Before  Hunilla's  eyes  they  sank.  The  real 
woe  of  this  event  passed  before  her  sight  as  some 
sham  tragedy  on  the  stage.  She  was  seated  on 
a  rude  bower  among  the  withered  thickets, 
crowning  a  lofty  cliff,  a  little  back  from  the 
beach.  The  thickets  were  so  disposed,  that  in 
looking  upon  the  sea  at  large  she  peered  out 
from  among  the  branches  as  from  the  lattice  of 
a  high  balcony.  But  upon  the  day  we  speak  of 
here,  the  better  to  watch  the  adventure  of  those 
two  hearts  she  loved,  Hunilla  had  withdrawn 
the  branches  to  one  side,  and  held  them  so. 
They  formed  an  oval  frame,  through  which  the 
bluely  boundless  sea  rolled  like  a  painted  one. 
And  there,  the  invisible  painter  painted  to  her 
view  the  wave-tossed  and  disjointed  raft,  its  once 
level  logs  slantingly  upheaved,  as  raking  masts, 


354  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

and  the  four  struggling  arms  undistinguishable 
among  them  ;  and  then  all  subsided  into  smooth- 
flowing  creamy  waters,  slowly  drifting  the  splin 
tered  wreck  ;  while  first  and  last,  no  sound  of 
any  sort  was  heard.  Death  in  a  silent  picture; 
a  dream  of  the  eye  ;  such  vanishing  shapes  as 
the  mirage  shows. 

So  instant  was  the  scene,  so  trance-like  its 
mild  pictorial  effect,  so  distant  from  her  blasted 
bower  and  her  common  sense  of  things,  that 
Hunilla  gazed  and  gazed,  nor  raised  a  finger  or 
a  wail.  But  as  good  to  sit  thus  dumb,  in  stupor 
staring  on  that  dumb  show,  for  all  that  otherwise 
might  be  done.  With  half  amile  of  sea  between, 
how  could  her  two  enchanted  arms  aid  those 
four  fated  ones  ?  The  distance  long,  the  time 
one  sand.  After  the  lightning  is  beheld,  what 
fool  shall  stay  the  thunder-bolt  ?  Felipe's  body 
was  washed  ashore,  but  Truxill's  never  came ; 
only  his  gay,  braided  hat  of  golden  straw — that 
same  sunflower  thing  he  waved  to  her,  pushing 
from  the  strand — and  now,  to  the  last  gallant,  it 
still  saluted  her.  But  Felipe's  body  floated  to  the 
marge,  with  one  arm  encirclingly  outstretched. 
Lock-jawed  in  grim  death,  the  lover-husband 


THE     ENJCANTADAS.  355 

softly  clasped  his  bride,  true  to  her  even  in 
death's  dream.  Ah,  heaven,  when  man  thus 
keeps  his  faith,  wilt  thou  be  faithless  who  crea 
ted  the  faithful  one  ?  But  they  cannot  break 
faith  who  never  plighted  it. 

It  needs  not  to  be  said  what  nameless  misery 
now  wrapped  the  lonely  widow.  In  telling  her 
own  story  she  passed  this  almost  entirely  over, 
simply  recounting  the  event.  Construe  the 
comment  of  her  features  as  you  might,  from 
her  mere  words  little  would  you  have  weened 
that  Hunilla  was  hers'elf  the  heroine  of  her  tale. 
But  not  thus  did  she  defraud  us  of  our  tears. 
All  hearts  bled  that  grief  could  be  so  brave. 

She  but  showed  us  her  soul's  lid,  and  the 
strange  ciphers  thereon  engraved ;  all  within, 
with  pride's  timidity,  was  withheld.  Yet  was 
there  one  exception.  Holding  out  her  small 
olive  hand  before  her  captain,  she  said  in  mild 
and  slowest  Spanish,  "  Senor,  I  buried  him;" 
then  paused,  struggled  as  against  the  writhed 
coilings  of  a  snake,  and  cringing  suddenly,  leap 
ed  up,  repeating  in  impassioned  pain,  "  I  buried 
him,  my  life,  my  soul !" 

Doubtless,  it  was  by  half-unconscious,  auto- 


356  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

matic  motions  of  her  hands,  that  this  heavy- 
hearted  one  performed  the  final  office  for  Felipe, 
and  planted  a  rude  cross  of  withered  sticks — 
no  green  ones  might  be  had — at  the  head  of  that 
lonely  grave,  where  rested  now  in  lasting  un- 
complaint  and  quiet  haven  he  whom  untranquil 
seas  had  overthrown. 

But  some  dull  sense  of  another  body  that 
should  be  interred,  of  another  cross  that  should 
hallow  another  grave — unmade  as  yet — some 
dull  anxiety  and  pain  touching  her  undiscovered 
brother,  now  haunted  the  oppressed  Hunilla. 
Her  hands  fresh  from  the  burial  earth,  she  slowly 
went  back  to  the  beach,  with  unshaped  pur 
poses  wandering  there,  her  spell-bound  eye  bent 
upon  the  incessant  waves.  But  they  bore  no 
thing  to  her  but  a  dirge,  which  maddened  her 
to  think  that  murderers  should  moun^  As 
time  went  by,  and  these  things  came  lessrFream- 
ingly  to  her  mind,  the  strong  persuasions  of  her 
Romish  faith,  which  sets  peculiar  store  by  con 
secrated  urns,  prompted  her  to  resume  in  wak 
ing  earnest  that  pious  search  which  had  but  been 
begun  as  in  somnambulism.  Day  after  day, 
week  after  week,  she  trod  the  cinojery  be^ch, 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  357 

till  at  length  a  double  motive  edged  every  eager 
glance.  With  equal  Longing  she  now  looked 
for  the  living  and  the  dead  ;  the  brother  and  the 
captain  ;  alike  vanished,  never  to  return.  Little 
accurate  note  of  time  had  Hunilla  taken  under 
such  emotions  as  were  hers,  and  little,  outside 
herself,  served  for  calendar  or  dial.  As  to  poor 
Crusoe  in  the  self-same  sea,  no  saint's  bell  pealed 
forth  the  lapse  of  week  or  month;  each  day 
went  by  unchallenged ;  no  chanticleer  an 
nounced  those  sultry  dawns,  no  lowing  herds 
those  poisonous  nights.  All  wonted  and  steadily 
recurring  sounds,  human,  or  humanized  by 
sweet  fellowship  with  man,  but  one  stirred  that 
torrid  trance — the  cry  of  dogs;  save  which 
naught  but  the  rolling  sea  invaded  it,  an  all- 
pervading  monotone ;  and  to  the  widow  that 
was  t^e  least  loved  voice  she  could  have  heard. 
No  wonder,  that  as  her  thoughts  now  wan 
dered  to  the  unreturning  ship,  and  were  beaten 
back  again,  the  hope  against  hope  so  struggled 
in  her  soul,  that  at  length  she  desperately  said, 
"Not  yet,  not  yet;  my  foolish  heart  runs  on 
too  fast."  So  she  forced  patience  for  some  fur 
ther  weeks.  But  to  those  whom  earth's  sure 


358  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

indraft  draws,  patience  or  impatience  is  still  the 
same. 

Hunilla  now  sought  to  settle  precisely  in  her 
mind,  to  an  hour,  how  long  it  was  since  the 
ship  had  sailed ;  and  then,  with  the  same  pre 
cision,  how  long  a  space  remained  to  pass.  But 
this  proved  impossible.  What  present  day  or 
month  it  was  she  could  not  say.  Time  was  her 
labyrinth,  in  which  Hunilla  was  entirely  lost. 

And  now  follows 

Against  my  own  purposes  a  pause  descends 
upon  me  here.  One  knows  not  whether  nature 
doth  not  impose  some  secrecy  upon  him  who 
has  been  privy  to  certain  things.  At  least,  it 
is  to  be  doubted  whether  it  be  good  to  blazon 
such.  If  some  books  are  deemed  most  baneful 
and  their  sale  forbid,  how,  then,  with  deadlier 
facts,  not  dreams  of  doting  men  ?  Those  whom 
books  will  hurt  will  not  be  proof  against  events. 
Events,  not  books,  should  be  forbid.  But  in  all 
things  man  sows  upon  the  wind,  which  bloweth 
just  there  whither  it  listeth ;  for  ill  or  good,  man 
cannot  know.  Often  ill  comes  from  the  good, 
as  good  from  ill. 

When  Hunilla 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  359 

Dire  sight  it  is  to  see  some  silken  beast  long 
dally  with  a  golden  lizard  ere  she  devour.  More 
terrible,  to  see  how  feline  Fate  will  sometimes 
dally  with  a  human  soul,  and  by  a  nameless 
magic  make  it  repulse  a  sane  despair  with  a 
hope  which  is  but  mad.  Unwittingly  I  imp 
this  cat-like  thing,  sporting  with  the  heart  of 
him  who  reads ;  for  if  he  feel  not  he  reads  in 
vain. 

— "  The  ship  sails  this  day,  to-day,"  at  last 
said  Hunilla  to  herself;  "  this  gives  me  certain 
time  to  stand  on  ;  without  certainty  I  go  mad. 
In  loose  ignorance  I  have  hoped  and  hoped  ; 
now  in  firm  knowledge  I  will  but  wait.  Now  I 
live  and  no  longer  perish  in  bewilderings.  Holy 
Virgin,  aid  me !  Thou  wilt  waft  back  the  ship. 
Oh,  past  length  of  weary  weeks — all  to  be  drag 
ged  over — to  buy  the  certainty  of  to-day,  I  freely 
give  ye,  though  I  tear  ye  from  me !" 

As  mariners,  tost  in  tempest  on  some  desolate 
ledge,  patch  them  a  boat  out  of  the  remnants  of 
their,  vessel's  wreck,  and  launch  it  in  the  self 
same  waves,  see  here  Hunilla,  this  lone  ship 
wrecked  soul,  out  of  treachery  invoking  trust. 
Humanity,  thou  strong  thing,  I  worship  thee, 


360  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

not  in  the  laureled  victor,  but  in  this  vanquished 
one. 

Truly  Hunilla  leaned  upon  a  reed,  a  real  one ; 
no  metaphor;  a  real  Eastern  reed.  A  piece  of 
hollow  cane,  drifted  from  unknown  isles,  and 
found  upon  the  beach,  its  once  jagged  ends 
rubbed  smoothly  even  as  by  sand-paper ;  its 
golden  glazing  gone.  Long  ground  between 
the  sea  and  land,  upper  and  nether  stone,  the 
unvarnished  substance  was  filed  bare,  and  wore 
another  polish  now,  one  with  itself,  the  polish 
of  its  agony.  Circular  lines  at  intervals  cut  all 
round  this  surface,  divided  it  into  six  panels  of 
unequal  length.  In  the  first  were  scored  the 
days,  each  tenth  one  marked  by  a  longer  and 
deeper  notch ;  the  second  was  scored  for  the 
number  of  sea-fowl  eggs  for  sustenance,  picked 
out  from  the  rocky  nests;  the  third,  how  many 
fish  had  been  caught  from  the  shore ;  the  fourth, 
how  many  small  tortoises  found  inland;  the 
fifth,  how  many  days  of  sun ;  the  sixth,  of  clouds ; 
which  last,  of  the  two,  was  the  greater  one. 
Long  night  of  busy  numbering,  misery's  mathe 
matics,  to  weary  her  too-wakeful  soul  to  sleep  5 
yet  sleep  for  that  was  none. 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  361 

m 

The  panel  of  the  days  was  deeply  worn — the 
long  tenth  notches  half  effaced,  as  alphabets  of 
the  blind.  Ten  thousand  times  the  longing 
widow  had  traced  her  finger  over  the  bamboo — 
dull  flute,  which  played,  on,  gave  no  sound — as 
if  counting  birds  flown  by  in  air  would  hasten 
tortoises  creeping  through  the  woods. 

After  the  one  hundred  and  eightieth  day  no 
further  mark  was  seen ;  that  last  one  was  the 
faintest,  as  the  first  the  deepest. 

"  There  were  more  days,"  said  our  Captain  ; 
"  many,  many  more  ;  why  did  you  not  go  on 
and  notch  them,  too,  Hunilla  ?" 

"  Senor,  ask  me  not." 

"And  meantime,  did  no  other  vessel  pass 
the  isle?" 

"  Nay,  Senor;— but " 

"You  do  not  speak ;  but  what,  Hunilla?" 

"Ask  me  not,  Senor." 

"  You  saw  ships  pass,  far  away;  you  waved 
to  them  ;  they  passed  on ; — was  that  it,  Hu 
nilla?" 

"  Senor,  be  it  as  you  say." 

Braced  against  her  woe,  Hunilla  would  not, 
durst  not  trust  the  weakness  of  her  tongue. 


362  THE     PIAZZA      TALES. 

Then  when  our  Captain  asked  whether  any 
whale-boats  had 

But  no,  I  will  not  file  this  tjiing  complete 
for  scoffing  souls  to  quote,  and  call  it  firm 
proof  upon  their  side.  The  half  shall  here 
remain  untold.  Those  two  unnamed  events 
which  befell  Hunilla  on  this  isle,  let  them 
abide  between  her  and  her  God.  In  nature,  as 
in  law,  it  may  be  libelous  to  speak  some  truths. 

Still,  how  it  was  that,  although  our  vessel 
had  lain  three  days  anchored  nigh  the  isle,  its 
one  human  tenant  should  not  have  discovered 
us  till  just  upon  the  point  of  sailing,  never  to 
revisit  so  lone  and  far  a  spot,  this  needs  ex 
plaining  ere  the  sequel  come. 

The  place  where  the  French  captain  had 
landed  the  little  party  was  on  the  further  and 
opposite  end  of  the  isle.  There,  too,  it  was 
that  they  had  afterwards  built  their  hut.  Nor 
did  the  widow  in  her  solitude  desert  the  spot 
where  her  loved  ones  had  dwelt  with  her,  and 
where  the  dearest  of  the  twain  now  slept  his 
last  long  sleep,  and  all  her  plaints  awaked  him 
not,  and  he  of  husbands  the  most  faithful  dur 
ing  life. 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  363 

Now,  high  broken  land  rises  between  the 
opposite  extremities  of  the  isle.  A  ship  an 
chored  at  one  side  is  invisible  from  the  other. 
Neither  is  the  isle  so  small,  but  a  considerable 
company  might  wander  for  days  through  the 
wilderness  of  one  side,  and  never  be  seen,  or 
their  halloos  heard,  by  any  stranger  holding 
aloof  von  the  other.  Hence  Hunilla,  who  natu 
rally  associated  the  possible  coming  of  ships 
with  her  own  part  of  the  isle,  might  to  the  end 
have  remained  quite  ignorant  of  the  presence 
of  our  vessel,  were  it  not .  for  a  mysterious 
presentiment,  borne  to  her,  so  our  mariners 
averred,  by  this  isle's  enchanted  air.  Nor  did 
the  widow's  answer  undo  the  thought. 

"  How  did  you  come  to  cross  the  isle  this 
morning,  then,  Hunilla?','  said  our  Captain. 

"  Seiior,  something  came  flitting  by  me.  It 
touched  my  cheek,  my  heart,  Senor." 

"What  do  you  say,  Hunilla?" 

"  I  have  said,  Senor,  something  came  through 
the  air."  % 

It  was  a  narrow  chance.  For  when  in  cross 
ing  the  isle  Hunilla  gained  the  high  land  in  the 
centre,  she  must  then  for  the  first  have  per- 


364  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

ceived  our  masts,  and  also  marked  that  their 
sails  were  being  loosed,  perhaps  even  heard 
the  echoing  chorus  of  the  windlass  song.  The 
strange  ship  was  about  to  sail,  and  she  behind. 
With  all  haste  she  now  descends  the  height  on 
the  hither  side,  but  soon  loses  sight  of  the  ship 
among  the  sunken  jungles  at  the  mountain's 
base.  She  struggles  on  through  the  withered 
branches,  which  seek  at  every  step  to  bar  her 
path,  till  she  comes  to  the  isolated  rock,  still 
some  way  from  the  water.  This  she  climbs, 
to  reassure  herself.  The  ship  is  still  in  plain 
est  sight.  But  now,  worn  out  with  over  ten 
sion,  Hunilla  all  but  faints ;  she  fears  to  step 
down  from  her  giddy  perch ;  she  is  fain  to 
pause,  there  where  she  is,  and  as  a  last  resort 
catches  the  turban  from  her  head,  unfurls  and 
waves  it  over  the  jungles  towards  us. 

During  the  telling  of  her  story  the  mariners 
formed  a  voiceless  circle  round  Hunilla  and  the 
Captain  ;  and  when  at  length  the  word  was 
given  to  man  the  fastest  boat,  and  pull  round 
to  the  isle's  thither  side,  to  bring  away  Hunil- 
la's  chest  and  the, tortoise-oil,  such  alacrity  of 
both  cheery  and  sad  obedience  seldom  before 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  3C5 

was  seen.  Little  ado  was  made.  Already  the 
anchor  had  been  recommitted  to  the  bottom, 
and  the  ship  swung  calmly  to  it. 

But  Hunilla  insisted  upon  accompanying  the 
boat  as  indispensable  pilot  to  her  hidden  hut. 
So  being  refreshed  with  the  best  the  steward 
could  supply,  she  started  with  us.  Nor  did 
ever  any  wife  of  the  most  famous  admiral,  in 
her  husband's  barge,  receive  more  silent  rever 
ence  of  respect  than  poor  Hunilla  from  this 
boat's  crew. 

Rounding  many  a  vitreous  cape  and  bluff,  in 
two  hours'  time  we  shot  inside  the  fatal  reef; 
wound  into  a  secret  cove,  looked  up  along  a 
green  many-gabled  lava  wall,  and  saw  the 
island's  solitary  dwelling. 

It  hung  upon  an  impending  cliff,  sheltered 
on  two  sides  by  tangled  thickets,  and  half- 
screened  from  view  in  front  by  juttings  of  the 
rude  stairway,  which  climbed  the  precipice 
from  the  sea.  Built  of  canes,  it  was  thatched 
with  long,  mildewed  grass.  It  seemed  an 
abandoned  hay-rick,  whose  haymakers  were 
now  no  more.  The  roof  inclined  but  one  way ; 
the  eaves  coming  to  within  two  feet  of  the 


THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 


ground.  And  here  was  a  simple  apparatus  to 
collect  the  dews,  or  rather  doubly-distilled  and 
fmest  winnowed  rains,  which,  in  mercy  or  in 
mockery,  the  night-skies  sometimes  drop  upon 
these  blighted  Encantadas.  All  along  beneath 
the  eaves,  a  spotted  sheet,  quite  weather- 
stained,  was  spread,  pinned  to  short,  upright 
stakes,  set  in  the  shallow  sand.  A  small  clink 
er,  thrown  into  the  cloth,  weighed  its  middle 
down,  thereby  straining  all  moisture  into  a  cala 
bash  placed  below.  This  vessel  supplied  each 
drop  of  water  ever  drunk  upon  the  isle  by  the 
Cholos.  Hunilla  told  us  the  calabash  would 
sometimes,  but  not  often,  be  half  filled  over 
night.  It  held  six  quarts,  perhaps.  "But," 
said  she,  "we  were  used  to  thirst.  At  sandy 
Payta,  where  I  live,  no  shower  from  heaven 
ever  fell ;  all  the  water  there  is  brought  on 
mules  from  the  inland  vales." 

Tied  among  the  thickets  were  some  twenty 
moaning  tortoises,  supplying  Hunilla's  lonely 
larder ;  while  hundreds  of  vast  tableted  black 
bucklers,  like  displaced,  shattered  tomb-stones 
of  dark  slate,  were  also  scattered  round.  These 
were  the  skeleton  backs  of  those  great  tortoises 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  367 

from  which  Felipe  and  Truxill  had  made  their 
precious  oil.  Several  large  calabashes  and  two 
goodly  kegs  were  filled  with  it.  In  a  pot  near 
by  were  the  caked  crusts  of  a  quantity  whicfc 
had  been  permitted  to  evaporate.  "  They 
meant  to  have  strained  it  off  next  day,"  said 
Hunilla,  as  she  turned  aside. 

I  forgot  to  mention  the  most  singular  sight 
of  all,  though  the  first  that  greeted  us  after 
landing. 

Some  ten  small,  soft-haired,  ringleted  dogs, 
of  a  beautiful  breed,  peculiar  to  Peru,  set  up  a 
concert  of  glad  welcomings  when  we  gained 
the  beach,  which  was  responded  to  by  Hunilla. 
Some  of  these  dogs  had,  since  her  widowhood, 
been  born  upon  the  isle,  the  progeny  of  the 
two  broughf  from  Payta.  Owing  to  the  jagged 
steeps  and  pitfalls,  tortuous  thickets,  sunken 
clefts  and  perilous  intricacies  of  all  sorts  in  the 
interior,  Hunilla,  admonished  by  the  loss  of 
one  favorite  among  them,  never  allowed  these 
delicate  creatures  to  follow  her  in  her  occa 
sional  birds'-nests  climbs  and  other  wanderings; 
so  that,  through  long  habituation,  they  offered 
not  to  follow,  when  that  morning  she  crossed 


368  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

the  land,  and  her  own  soul  was  then  too  full 
of  other  things  to  heed  their  lingering  behind. 
Yet,  all  along  she  had  so  clung  to  them,  that, 
besides  what  moisture  they  lapped  up  at  early 
daybreak  from  the  small  scoop-holes  among 
the  adjacent  rocks,  she  had  shared  the  dew  of 
her  calabash  among  them ;  never  laying  by  any 
considerable  store  against  those  prolonged  and 
litter  droughts  which,  in  some  disastrous  sea 
sons,  warp  these  isles. 

Having  pointed  out,  at  our  desire,  what  few 
things  she  would  like  transported  to  the  ship 
— her  chest,  the  oil,  not  omitting  the  live  tor 
toises  which  she  intended  for  a  grateful  present 
to  our  Captain^-we  immediately  set  to  work, 
carrying  them  to  the  boat  down  the  long,  slop 
ing  stair  of  deeply-shadowed  rock.  While  my 
comrades  were  thus  employed,  I  looked  and 
Hunilla  had  disappeared. 

It  was  not  curiosity  alone,  but,  it  seems  to 
me,  something  different  mingled  with  it,  which 
prompted  me  to  drop  my  tortoise,  and  once 
more  gaze  slowly  around.  I  remembered  the 
husband  buried  by  Hunilla's  hands.  A  narrow 
pathway  led  into  a  dense  part  of  the  thickets. 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  369 

Following  it  through  many  mazes,  I  came  out 
upon  a  small,  round,  open  space,  deeply  cham 
bered  there. 

The  mound  rose  in  the  middle ;  a  bare  heap 
of  finest  sand,  like  that  unverdured  heap  found 
at  the  bottom  of  an  hour-glass  run  out.  At  its 
head  stood  the  cross  of  withered  sticks ;  the 
dry,  peeled  bark  still  fraying  from  it ;  its  trans 
verse  limb  tied  up  with  rope,  and  forlornly 
adroop  in  the  silent  air. 

Hunilla  was  partly  prostrate  upon  the  grave ; 
her  dark  head  bowed,  and  lost  in  her  long, 
loosened  Indian  hair ;  her  hands  extended  to 
the  cross-foot,  with  a  little  brass  crucifix 
clasped  between ;  a  crucifix  worn  featureless, 
like  an  ancient  graven  knocker  long  plied  in 
vain.  She  did  not  see  me,  and  I  made  no 
noise,  but  slid  aside,  and  left  fhe  spot. 

A  few  moments  ere  all  was  ready  for  our 
going,  she  reappeared  among  us.  I  looked 
into  her  eyes,  but  saw  no  tear.  There  was 
something  which  seemed  strangely  haughty  in 
her  air,  and  yet  it  was  the  air  of  woe.  A 
Spanish  and  an  Indian  grief,  which  would  not 

visibly  lament.     Pride's  height  in  vain  abased 
16* 


370  THE     TIAZZA     TALES. 

to  proneness  on  the  rack  ;  nature's  pride  sub 
duing  nature's  torture. 

Like  pages  the  small  and  silken  dogs  sur 
rounded  her,  as  she  slowly  descended  towards 
the  beach.  She  caught  the  two  most  eager 
creatures  in  her  arms : — "  Mia  Teeta !  Mia  To- 
moteeta!"  and  fondling  them,  inquired  how 
many  could  we  take  on  board. 

The  mate  commanded  the  boat's  crew ;  not 
a  hard-hearted  man,  but  his  way  of  life  had 
been  such  that  in  most  things,  even  in  the 
smallest,  simple  utility  was  his  leading  mo 
tive. 

"  We  cannot  take  them  all,  Hunilla ;  our 
supplies  are  short ;  the  winds  are  unreliable ; 
we  may  be  a  good  many  days  going  to  Tombez. 
So  take  those  you  have,  Hunilla ;  but  no 
more." 

She  was  in  the  boat  ;  the  oarsmen,  too,  were 
seated ;  all  save  one,  who  stood  ready  to  push 
off  and  then  spring  himself.  With  the  sagacity 
of  their  race,  the  dogs  now  seemed  aware  that 
they  were  in  the  very  instant  of  being  deserted 
upon  a  barren  strand.  The  gunwales  of  the 
boat  were  high  ;  its  prow — presented  inland — 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  371 

was  lifted  ;  so  owing  to  the  water,  which  they 
seemed  instinctively  to  shun,  the  clogs  could 
not  well  leap  into  the  little  craft.  But  their 
busy  paws  hard  scraped  the  prow,  as  it  had 
been  some  farmer's  door  shutting  them  out  from 
shelter  in  a  winter  storm. ,  A  clamorous  agony 
of  alarm.  They  did  not  howl,  or  whine  ;  they 
all  but  spoke. 

"  Push  off!  Give  way  !"  cried  the  mate.  The 
boat  gave  one  heavy  drag  and  lurch,  and  next 
moment  shot  swiftly  frgm  the  beach,  turned  on 
her  heel,  and  sped.  The  dogs  ran  howling 
along  the  water's  marge ;  now  pausing  to  gaze 
at  the  flying  boat,  then  motioning  as  if  to  leap 
in  chase,  but  mysteriously  withheld  them 
selves  ;  and  again  ran  howling  along  the  beach. 
Had  they  been  human  beings,  hardly  would 
they  have  more  vividly  inspired  the  sense  of 
desolation.  The  oars  were  plied  as  confederate 
feathers  of  two  wings.  No  one  spoke.  I 
looked  back  upon  the  beach,  and  then  upon 
Hunilla,  but  her  face  was  set  in  a  stern  dusky 
calm.  The  dogs  crouching  in  her  lap  vainly 
licked  her  rigid  hands.  She  never  looked  be 
hind  her;  but  sat  motionless,  till  we  turned  a 


372  TIIE      PIAZZA      TALES. 

promontory  of  the  coast  and  lost  all  sights  and 
sounds  astern.  She  seemed  as  one  who,  having 
experienced  the  sharpest  of  mortal  pangs,  was 
henceforth  content  to  have  all  lesser  heart 
strings  riven,  one  by  one.  To  Hunilla,  pain 
seemed  so  necessary,  that  pain  in  other  beings, 
though  by  love  and  sympathy  made  her  own, 
was  unrepiningly  to  be  borne.  A  heart  of 
yearniflg  in  a  frame  of  steel.  A  heart  of  earthly 
yearning,  frozen  by  the  frost  which  falleth  from 
the  sky. 

The  sequel  is  soon  told.  After  a  long  pas 
sage,  vexed  by  calms  arid  baffling  winds,  we 
made  the  little  port  of  Tombez  in  Peru,  there 
to  recruit  the  ship.  Payta  was  not  very  distant. 
Our  captain  sold  the  tortoise  oil  to  a  Tombez 
merchant  ;  and  adding  to  the  silver  a  contri 
bution  from  all  hands,  gave  it  to  our  silent  pas 
senger,  who  knew  not  what  the  mariners  had 
done. 

The  last  seen  of  lone  Hunilla  she  was  pass 
ing  into  Payta  town,  riding  upon  a  small  gray 
ass  j  and  before  her  on  the  ass's  shoulders,  she 
eyed  the  jointed  workings  of  .the  beast's  armo 
rial  cross. 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  373 


SKETCH    NINTH. 

HOOD'S  ISLE   AND   THE   HERMIT   OBEELUS. 

"  That  darkesome  glen  they  enter,  where  they  find 
That  cursed  man  low  sitting  on  the  ground, 
Musing  full  sadly  in  his  sullein  mind ; 
His  griesly  lockes  long  grouen  and  unbound, 
Disordered  hong  about  his  shoulders  round, 
And  hid  his  face,  through  which  his  hollow  eyne 
Lookt  deadly  dull,  and  stared  as  astound  ; 
His  raw-bone  cheekes,  through  peuurie  and  pine, 
Were  shronke  into  the  jawes,  as  he  did  never  dine. 
His  garments  nought  but  many  ragged  clouts, 
With  thornes  together  pind  and  patched  reads, 
The  which  his  naked  sides  he  wrapt  abouts." 

Southeast  of  Grossman's  Isle  lies  Hood's 
Isle,  or  McCain's  Beclouded  Isle;  and  upon 
its  south  side  is  a  vitreous  cove  with  a  wide 
strand  of  dark  pounded  black  lava,  called  Black 
Beach,  or  Oberlus's  Landing.  It  might  fitly 
have  been  styled  Charon's. 

It  received  its  name  from  a  wild  white  crea 
ture  who  spent  many  years  here  ;  in  the  person 
of  a  European  bringing  into  this  savage  region 
qualities  more  diabolical  than  are  to  be  found 
among  any  of  the  surrounding  cannibals. 

About  half  a  century  ago,  Oberlus  deserted 


374  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

at  the  above-named  island,  then,  as  now,  a  soli 
tude.  He  built  himself  a  den  of  lava  and 
clinkers,  about  a  mile  from  the  Landing,  sub 
sequently  called  after  him,  in  a  vale,  or  ex 
panded  gulch,  containing  here  and  there  among 
the  rocks  about  two  acres  of  soil  capable  of 
rude  cultivation ;  the  only  place  on  the  isle 
.not  too  blasted  for  that  purpose.  Here  he  suc 
ceeded  in  raising  a  sort  of  degenerate  potatoes 
and  pumpkins,  which  from  time  to  time  he  ex 
changed  with  needy  whalemen  passing,  for 
spirits  or  dollars. 

His  appearance,  from  all  accounts,  was  that 
of  the- victim  of  some  malignant  sorceress;  he 
seemed  to  have  drunk  of  Circe's  cup ;  beast- 
like  ;  rags  insufficient  to  hide  his  nakedness ; 
his  befreckled  skin  blistered  by  continual  ex 
posure  to  the  sun ;  nose  flat ;  countenance 
contorted,  heavy,  earthy;  hair  and  beard  un 
shorn,  profuse,  and  of  fiery  red.  He  struck 
strangers  much  as  if  he  were  a  volcanic  crea 
ture  thrown  up  by  the  same  convulsion  which 
exploded  into  sight  the  isle.  All  bepatched 
and  coiled  asleep  in  his  lonely  lava  den  among 
the  mountains,  he  looked,  they  say,  as  a  heaped 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  375 

drift  of  withered  leaves,  torn  from  autumn 
trees,  and  so  left  in  some  hidden  nook  by  the 
whirling  halt  for  an  instant  of  a  fierce  night- 
wind,  which  then  ruthlessly  sweeps  on,  some 
where  else  to  repeat  the  capricious  act.  It  is 
also  reported  .to  have  been  the  strangest  sight, 
this  same  Oberlus,  of  a  sultry,  cloudy  morning, 
hidden  under  his  shocking  old  black  tarpaulin 
hat,  hoeing  potatoes  among  the  lava.  So 
warped  and  crooked  was  his  strange  nature, 
that  the  very  handle  of  his  hoe  seemed  gradual 
ly  to  have  shrunk  and  twisted  in  his  grasp, 
being  a  wr-etched  bent  stick,  elbowed  more 
like  a  savage's  war-sickle  than  a  civilized  hoe- 
handle.  It  was  his  mysterious  custom  upon  a 
first  encounter  with  a  stranger  ever  to  present 
his  back  ;  possibly,  because  that  was  his  better 
side,  since  it  jevealed  the  least.  If  the  en 
counter  chanced  in  his  garden,  as  it  sometimes 
did — the  new-landed  strangers  going  from  the 
sea-side  straight  through  the  gorge,  to  hunt 
up  the  queer  green-grocer  reported  doing  busi 
ness  here — Oberlus  for  a  time  hoed  on,  un 
mindful  of  all  greeting,  jovial  or  bland ;  as  the 
curious  stranger  would  turn  to  face  him,  the 


376  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

• 

recluse,  hoe  in  hand,  as  diligently  would  avert 
himself;  bowed  over,  and  sullenly  revolving 
round  his  murphy  hill.  Thus  far  for  hoeing. 
When  planting,  his  whole  aspect  and  all  his 
gestures  were  so  malevolently  and  uselessly 
sinister  and  secret,  that  he  seemed  rather  in  act 
of  dropping  poison  into  wells  than  potatoes 
into  soil.  But  among  his  lesser  and  more  harm 
less  marvels  was  an  idea  he  ever  had,  that  his 
visitors  came  equally  as  well  led  by  longings 
to  behold  the  mighty  hermit  Oberlus  in  his 
royal  state  of  solitude,  as  simply  to  obtain 
potatoes,  or  find  whatever  company  might  be 
upon  a  barren  isle.  It  seems  incredible  that 
such  a  being  should  possess  such  vanity ;  a 
misanthrope  be  conceited ;  but  he  really  had 
his  notion  ;  and  upon  the  strength  of  it,  often 
gave  himself  amusing  airs  to  captains.  But 
after  all,  this  is  somewhat  of  a  piece  with  the 
well-known  eccentricity  of  some  convicts,  proud 
of  that  very  hatefulness  which  makes  them 
notorious.  At  other  times,  another  unaccount 
able  whim  would  seize  him,  and  he  would  long 
dodge  advancing  strangers  round  the  cliukered 
corners  of  his  hut ;  sometimes  like  a  stealthy 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  377 

bear,  he  would  slink  through  the  withered  thick 
ets  up  the  mountains,  and  refuse  to  see  the 
human  face. 

Except  his  occasional  visitors  from  the  sea, 
for  a  long  period,  the  only  companions  of  Ober- 
lus  were  the  crawling  tortoises  ;  and  he  seemed 
more  than  degraded  to  their  level,  having  no 
"desires  for  a  time  beyond  theirs,  unless  it  were 
for  the  stupor  brought  on  by  drunkenness.  But 
sufficiently  debased  as  he  appeared,  there  yet 
lurked  in  him,  only  awaiting  occasion  for  dis 
covery,  a  still  further  proneness.  Indeed,  the 
sole  superiority  of  Oberlus  over  the  tortoises 
was  his  possession  of  a  larger  capacity  of  de 
gradation  ;  and  along  with  that,  something  like 
an  intelligent  will  to  it.  Moreover,  what  is 
about, to  be  revealed,  perhaps  will  show,  that 
selfish  ambition,  or  the  love  of  rule  for  its  own 
sake,  far  from  being  the  peculiar  infirmity  of 
noble  minds,  is  shared  by  beings  which  have  no 
mind  at  all.  No  creatures  are  so  selfishly 
tyrannical  as  some  brutes ;  as  any  one  who  has 
observed  the  tenants  of  the  pasture  must  oc 
casionally  have  observed. 

"  This  island's  mine  by  Sycorax  my  mother," 


378  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

said  Oberlus  to  himself,  glaring  round  upon  his 
haggard  "Solitude.  By  some  means,  barter  or 
theft — for  in  those  days  ships  at  intervals  still 
kept  touching  at  his  Landing — he  obtained  an 
old  musket,  with  a  few  charges  of  powder  and 
ball.  Possessed  of  arms,  he  was  stimulated  to 
enterprise,  as  a  tiger  that  first  feels  the  coming 
of  its  claws.  The  long  habit  of  sole  dominion 
over  every  object  round  him,  his  almost  un 
broken  solitude,  his  never  encountering  human 
ity  except  on  terms  of  misanthropic  independ 
ence,  or  mercantile  craftiness,  and  even  such 
encounters  being  comparatively  but  rare;  all 
this  must  have  gradually  nourished  in  him  a 
vast  idea  of  his  own  importance,  together  with 
a  pure  animal  sort  of  scorn  for  all  the  rest 
of  the  universe. 

The  unfortunate  Creole,  who  enjoyed  his 
brief  term  of  royalty  at  Charles's  Isle  was  per 
haps  in  some  degree  influenced  by  not  unwor 
thy  motives;  such  as  prompt  other  adventur 
ous  spirits  to  lead  colonists  into  distant  regions 
and  assume  political  preeminence  over  them. 
His  summary  execution  of  many  of  his  Peruvi 
ans  is  quite  pardonable,  considering  the  despe- 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  379 

rate  characters  he  had  to  deal  with ;  while  his 
offering  canine  battle  to  the  banded  rebels 
seems  under  the  circumstances  altogether  just. 
But  for  this  King  Oberlus  and  what  shortly 
follows,  no  shade  of  palliation  can  be  given. 
He  acted  out  of  mere  delight  in  tyranny  and 
cruelty,  by  virtue  of  a  quality  in  him  inherited 
from  Sycorax  his  mother.  Armed  now  with 
that  shocking  blunderbuss,  strong  in  the  thought 
of  being  master  of  that  horrid  isle,  he  panted 
for  a  chance  to  prove  his  potency  upon  the 
first  specimen  of  humanity  which  should  fall 
unbefriended  into  his  hands. 

Nor  wTas  he  long  without  it.  One  day  he 
spied  a  boat  upon  the  beach,  with  one  man,  a 
negro,  standing  by  it.  Some  distance  off  was 
a  ship,  and  Oberlus  immediately  knew  how 
'matters  stood.  The  vessel  had  put  in  for  wood, 
and  the  boat's  crew  had  gone  into  the  thickets 
for  it.  From  a  convenient  spot  he  kept  watch 
of  the  boat,  till  presently  a  straggling  company 
appeared  loaded  with  billets.  Throwing  these 
on  the  beach,  they  aga\n  went  into  the  thickets, 
while  the  negro  proceeded  to  load  the  boat. 

Oberlus.  now  makes  all  haste  and  accosts  the 


380  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

negro,  who,  aghast  at  seeing  any  living  being 
inhabiting  such  a  solitude,  and  especially  so 
horrific  a  one,  immediately  falls  into  a  panic, 
not  at  all  lessened  by  the  ursine  suavity  of 
Oberlus,  who  begs  the  favor  of  assisting  him  in 
his  labors.  The  negro  stands  writh  several 
billets  on  his  shoulder,  in  act  of  shouldering 
others ;  and  Oberlus,  with  a  short  cord  con 
cealed  in  his  bosom,  kindly  proceeds  to  lift 
those  other  billets  to  their  place.  IH  so  doing, 
he  persists  in  keeping  behind  the  negro,  who, 
rightly  suspicious  of  this,  in  vain  dodges  about 
to  gain  the  front  of  Oberlus ;  but  Oberlus 
dodges  also ;  till  at  last,  weary  of  this  bootless 
attempt  at  treachery,  or  fearful  of  being  sur 
prised  by  the  remainder  of  the  party,  Oberlus 
runs  off  a  little  space  to  a  bush,  and  fetching 
his  blunderbuss,  savagely  commands  the  negro' 
to  desist  work  and  follow  him.  He  refuses. 
Whereupon,  presenting  his  piece,  Oberlus 
snaps  at  him.  Luckily  the  blunderbuss  misses 
fire;  but.  by  this  time,  frightened  out  of  his 
wits,  the  negro,  upon  a  second  intrepid  sum 
mons,  drops  his  billets,  surrenders  at  discretion, 
and  follows  on.  By  a  narrow  defile  familiar  to 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  381 

him,  Oberlus  speedily  removes  out  of  sight  of 
the  water. 

On  their  way  up  the  mountains,  he  exulting- 
ly  informs  the  negro,  that  henceforth  he  is  to 
work  for  him,  and  be  his  slave,  and  that  his 
treatment^  would  entirely  depend  on  his  future 
conduct.  But  Oberlus,  deceived  by  the  first 
impulsive  cowardice  of  the  black,  in  an  evil 
moment  slackens  his  vigilance.  Passing  through 
a  narrow  way,  and  perceiving  his  leader  quite 
off  his  guard,  the  negro,  a  powerful  fellow, 
suddenly  grasps  him  in  his  arms,  throws  him 
down,  wrests  his  musketoon  from  him,  ties  his 
hands  with  the  monster's  own  cord,  shoulders 
him,  and  returns  with  him  down  to  the  boat. 
When  the  rest  of  the  party  arrive,  Oberlus  is 
carried  on  board  the  ship.  This  proved  an 
Englishman,  and  a  smuggler ;  a  sort  of  craft 
not  apt  to  be  over-charitable.  Oberlus  is  se 
verely  whipped,  then  handcuffed,  taken  ashore, 
and  compelled  to  make  known  his  habitation 
and  produce  his  property.  His  potatoes,  pump 
kins,  and  tortoises,  with  a  pile  of  dollars  he  had 
hoarded  from  his  mercantile  operations  were 
secured  on  the  spot.  But  while  the  too  vindic- 


382  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

tive  smugglers  were  busy  destroying  his  hut 
and  garden,  Oberlus  makes  his  escape  into  the 
mountains,  and  conceals  himself  there  in  im 
penetrable  recesses,  only  known  to  himself, 
till  the  ship  sails,  when  he  ventures  back,  and 
by  means  of  an  old  file  which  he  sticks  into  a 
tree,  contrives  to  free  himself  from  his  hand 
cuffs. 

Brooding  among  the  ruins  of  his  hut,  and  the 
desolate  clinkers  and  extinct  volcanoes  of  this 
outcast  isle,  the  insulted  misanthrope  now 
meditates  a  signal  revenge  upon  humanity,  but 
conceals  his  purposes.  Vessels  still  touch  the 
Landing  at  times ;  and  by-and-by  Oberlus  is 
enabled  to  supply  them  with  some  vegetables. 

Warned  by  his  former  failure  in  kidnapping 
strangers,  he  now  pursues  a  quite  different  plan. 
When  seamen  come  ashore,  he  makes  up  to 
them  like  a  free-and-easy-comrade,  invites  them 
to  his  hut,  and  with  whatever  affability  his  red- 
haired  grimness  may  assume,  entreats  them  to 
drink  his  liquor  and  be  merry.  But  his  guests 
need  little  pressing ;  and  so,  soon  as  rendered 
insensible,  are  tied  hand  and  foot,  and  pitched 
among  the  clinkers,  are  there  concealed  till  the 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  383 

ship  departs,  when,  finding  themselves  entire 
ly  dependent  upon  Oberlus,  alarmed  at  his 
changed  demeanor,  his  savage  threats,  and 
above  all,  that  shocking  blunderbuss,  they 
willingly  enlist  under  him,  becoming  his  hum 
ble  slaves,  and  Oberlus  the  most  incredible  of 
tyrants.  So  much  so,  that  two  or  three  perish 
beneath  his  initiating  process.  He  sets  the 
remainder — four  of  them — to  breaking  the 
caked  soil;  transporting  upon  their  backs 
loads  of  loamy  earth,  scooped  up  in  moist 
clefts  among  the  mountains;  keeps  them  on 
the  roughest  fare ;  presents  his  piece  at  the 
slightest  hint  of  insurrection;  and  in  all  re 
spects  converts  them  into  reptiles  at  his  feet — 
plebeian  garter-snakes  to  this  Lord  Anaconda. 
At  last,  Oberlus  contrives  to  stock  his  arse 
nal  with  four  rusty  cutlasses,  and  an  added 
supply  of  powder  and  ball  intended  for  his 
blunderb|fes.  Remitting  in  good  part  the  labor 
of  his  slaves,  he  now  approves  himself  a  man, 
or  rather  devil,  of  great  abilities  in  the  way  of 
cajoling  or  coercing  others  into  acquiescence 
with  his  own  ulterior  designs,  however  at  first 
abhorrent  to  them.  But  indeed,  prepared  for 


384  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

almost  any  eventual  evil  by  their  previous  law 
less  life,  as  a  sort  of  ranging  Cow-Boys  of  the 
sea,  which  had  dissolved  within  them  the 
whole  moral  man,  so  that  they  were  ready  to 
concrete  in  the  first  offered  mould  of  baseness 
now ;  rotted  down  from  >  manhood  by  their 
hopeless  misery  on  the  isle;  wonted  to  cringe 
in  all  things  to  their  lord,  himself  the  worst 
of  slaves;  these  wretches  were  now  become 
wholly  corrupted  to  his  hands.  He  used  them 
as  creatures  of  an  inferior  race ;  in  short,  he 
gaffles  his  four  animals,  and  makes  murderers 
of  them ;  out  of  cowards  fitly  manufacturing 
bravos. 

Now,  sword  or  dagger,  human  arms  are  but 
artificial  claws  and  fangs,  tied  on  like  -false 
spurs  to  the  fighting  cock.  So,  we  repeat, 
Oberlus,  czar  of  the  isle,  gaffles  his  four  sub 
jects ;  that  is,  with  intent  of  glory,  puts  four 
rusty  cutlasses  into  their  hands.  iJLike  any 
other  autocrat,  he  had  a  noble  army  now. 

It  might  be  thought  a  servile  war  would 
hereupon  ensue.  Arms  in  the  hands  of  trodden 
slaves?  how  indiscreet  of  Emperor  Oberlus! 
Nay,  they  had  but  cutlasses — sad  old  scythes 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  385 

enough — he  a  blunderbuss,  which  by  its  blind 
scatterings  of  all  sorts  of  boulders,  clinkers,  and 
other  scoria  would  annihilate  all  four  mutineers, 
like  four  pigeons  at  one  shot.  Besides,  at  first 
he  did  not  sleep  in  his  accustomed  hut ;  every 
lurid  sunset,  for  a  time,  he  might  have  been 
seen  wending  his  way  among  the  riven  moun 
tains,  there  to  secrete  himself  till  dawn  in  some 
sulphurous  pitfall,  undiscoverable  to  his  gang ; 
but  finding  this  at  last  too  troublesome,  he  now 
each  evening  tied  his  slaves  hand  and  foot,  hid 
the  cutlasses,  and  thrusting  them  into  his  bar 
racks,  shut  to  the  door,  and  lying  down  before 
it,  beneath  a  rude  shed  lately  added,  slept  out 
the  night,  blunderbuss  in  hand. 

It  is  supposed  that  not  content  with  daily 
parading  over  a  cindery  solitude  at  the  head  of 
his  fine  army,  Oberlus  now  meditated  the  most 
active  mischief;  his  probable  object  being  to 
surprise^  some  passing  ship  touching  at  his 
dominions,  massacre  the  crew,  and  run  away 
with  her  to  parts  unknown.  While  these  plans 
were  simmering  in  his  head,  two  ships  touch 
in  company  at  the  isle,  on  the  opposite  side  to 

his  ;  when  his  designs  undergo  a  sudden  change. 
17 


386  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

v  The  ships  are  in  want  of  vegetables,  which 
Oberlus  promises  in  great  abundance,  provided 
they  send  their  boats  round  to  his  landing,  so 
that  the  crews  may  bring  the  vegetables  from 
his  garden ;  informing  the  two  captains,  at  the 
same  time,  that  his  rascals — slaves  and  soldiers 
— had  become  so  abominably  lazy  and  good- 
for-nothing  of  late,  that  he  could  not  make 
them  work  by  ordinary  inducements,  and 'did 
not  have  the  heart  to  be  severe  with  them. 

The  arrangement  was  agreed  to,  and  the 
boats  were  sent  and  hauled  upon  the  beach. 
The  crews  went  to  the  lava  hut ;  but  to  their 
surprise  nobody  was  there.  After  waiting  till 
their  patience  was  exhausted,  they  returned  to 
the  shore,  when  lo,  some  stranger — not  the 
Good  Samaritan  either — seems  to  have  very 
recently  passed  that  way.  Three  of  the  boats 
were  broken  in  a  thousand  pieces,  and  the 
fourth  was  missing.  By  hard  toil  over  the 
mountains  and  through  the  clinkers,  some  of 
the  strangers  succeeded  in  returning  to  that 
side  of  the  isle  where  the  ships  lay,  when  fresh 
boats  are  sent  to  the  relief  of  the  rest  of  the 
hapless  party. 


THE     ENCANTADA^S.  387 

However  amazed  at  the  treachery  of  Oberlus, 
the  two  captains,  afraid  of  new  and  still  more 
mysterious  atrocities — and  indeed,  half  imput 
ing  such  strange  events  to  the  enchantments 
associated  with  these  isles — perceive  no  securi 
ty  but  inv  instant  flight;  leaving  Oberlus  and 
his  army  in  quiet  possession  of  the  stolen 
boat. 

On  the  eve  of  sailing  they  put  a  letter  in  a 
keg,  giving  the  Pacific  Ocean  intelligence  of 
the  affair,  and  moored  the  keg  in  the  bay. 
Some  time  subsequent,  the  keg  was  opened  by 
another  captain  chancing  to  anchor  there,  but 
not  until  after  he  had  dispatched  a  boat  round 
to  Oberlus's  Landing.  As  may  be  readily  sur 
mised,  he  felt  no  little  inquietude  till  the  boat's 
return ;  when  another  letter  was  handed  him, 
giving  Oberlus's  version  of  the  affair.  This  pre 
cious  document  had  been  found  pinned  half- 
mildewed  to  the  clinker  wall  of  the  sulphurous 
and  deserted  hut.  It  ran  as  follows  :  showing 
that  Oberlus  was  at  least  an  accomplished 
writer,  and  no  mere  boor ;  and  what  is  more, 
was  capable  of  the  most  tristful  eloquence. 

"  Sir :  I  am  the  most  unfortunate  ill-treated 


388  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

gentleman  that  lives.     I  am  a  patriot,  exiled 
from  my  country  by  the  cruel  hand  of  tyranny. 

"  Banished  to  these  Enchanted  Isles,  I  have 
again  and  again  besought  captains  of  ships  to 
sell  me  a  boat,  but  always  have  been  refused, 
though  I  offered  the  handsomest  prices  in  Mexi 
can  dollars.  At  length  an  opportunity  pre 
sented  of  possessing  myself  of  one,  and  I  did 
not  let  it  slip. 

"  I  have  been  long  endeavoring,  by  hard  labor 
and  much  solitary  suffering,  to  accumulate 
something  to  make  myself  comfortable  in  a 
virtuous  though  unhappy  old  age  ;  but  at  vari 
ous  times  have  been  robbed  and  beaten  by  men 
professing  to  be  Christians. 

"  To-day  I  sail  from  the  Enchanted  group  in 
the  good  boat  Charity  bound  to  the  Feejee 
Isles. 

"  FATHERLESS  OBERLUS. 

"  P.  S. — Behind  the  clinkers,  high  the  oven, 
you  will  find  the  old  fowl.  Do  not  kill  it ;  be 
patient;  I  leave  it  setting;  if  it  shall  have  any 
chicks,  I  hereby  bequeath  them  to  you,  who 
ever  you  may  be.  But  don't  count  your  chicks 
before  they  are  hatched." 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  389 

The  fowl  proved  a  starveling  rooster,  re 
duced  to  a  sitting  posture  by  sheer  debility. 

Oberlus  declares  that  he  was  bound  to  the 
Feejee  Isles ;  but  this  was  only  to  throw  pur 
suers  on  a  false  scent.  For,  after  a  long  time, 
he  arrived,  alone  in  his  open  boat,  at  Guaya 
quil.  As  his  miscreants  were  never  again  be 
held  on  Hood's  Isle,  it  is  supposed,  either  that 
they  perished  for  want  of  water  on  the  passage 
to  Guayaquil,  or,  what  is  quite  as  probable, 
were  thrown  overboard  by  Oberlus,  when  he 
found  the  water  growing  scarce. 

From  Guayaquil  Oberlus  proceeded  to  Pay- 
ta;  and  there,  with  that  nameless  witchery 
peculiar  to  some  of  the  ugliest  animals,  wound 
himself  into  the  affections  of  a  tawny  damsel ; 
prevailing  upon  her  to  accompany  him  back  to 
his  Enchanted  Isle  ;  which  doubtless  he  paint 
ed  as  a  Paradise  of  flowers,  not  a  Tartarus  of 
clinkers. 

But  unfortunately  for  the  colonization  of 
Hood's  Isle  with  a  choice  variety  of  animated 
nature,  the  extraordinary  and  devilish  aspect 
of  Oberlus  made  him  to  be  regarded  in  Payta 
as  a  highly  suspicious  character.  So  that 


390  THE    PIAZZA     TALES. 

being  found  concealed  one  night,  with  matches 
in  his  pocket,  under  the  hull  of  a  small  vessel 
just  ready  to  be  launched,  he  was  seized  and 
thrown  into  jail. 

The  jails  in  most  South  American  towns  are 
generally  of  the  least  wholesome  sort.  Built 
of  huge  cakes  of  sun-burnt  brick,  and  contain 
ing  but  one  room,  without  windows  or  yard, 
and  but  one  door  heavily  grated  with  wooden 
bars,  they  present  both  within  and  without  the 
grimmest  aspect.  As  public  edifices  they  con 
spicuously  stand  upon  the  hot  and  dusty  Plaza, 
offering  to  view,  tHrough  the  gratings,  their 
villainous  and  hopeless  inmates,  burrowing  in 
all  sorts  of  tragic  squalor.  And  here,  for  a 
long  time,  Oberlus  was  seen ;  the  central  figure 
of  a  mongrel  and  assassin  band ;  a  creature 
whom  it  is  religion  to  detest,  since  it  is  philan 
thropy  to  hate  a  misanthrope. 

Note. — They  who  may  be  disposed  to  question  the  pos 
sibility  of  the  character  above  depicted,  are  referred  to  the 
2d  vol.  of  Porter's  Yoyage  into  the  Pacific,  where  they  will 
recognize  many  sentences,  for  expedition's  sake  derived  ver 
batim  from  thence,  and  incorporated  here ;  the  main  differ 
ence — save  a  few  passing  reflections — between  the  two 
accounts  being,  that  the  present  writer  has  added  to  Por 
ter's  facts  accessory  ones  picked  -up  in  the  Pacific  from 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  391 

reliable  sources  ;  and  where  facts  conflict,  has  naturally  pre 
ferred  his  own  authorities  to  Porter's.  As,  for  instance,  his 
authorities  .place  Oberlus  on  Hood's  Isle :  Porter's,  on 
Charles's  Isle.  The  letter  found  in  the  hut  is  also  some 
what  different ;  for  while  at  the  Encantadas  he  was  informed 
that,  not  only  did  it  evince  a  certain  clerkliness,  but  was  full 
of  the  strangest  satiric  effrontery  which  does  not  adequately 
appear  in  Porter's  version.  I  accordingly  altered  it  to  suit 
the  general  character  of  its  author. 


392  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 


SKETCH  TENTH. 

RUNAWAYS,  CASTAWAYS,  SOLITARIES,  GRAVE-STONES,  ETC. 

"  And  all  about  old  stocks  and  stubs  of  trees, 
Whereon  nor  fruit  nor  leaf  was  ever  seen, 
Did  hang  upon  ragged  knotty  knees, 

On  which  had  many  wretches  hanged  been." 

Some  relics  of  the  hut  of  Oberlus  partially 
remain  to  this  day  at  the  head  of  the  clinkered 
valley.  Nor  does  the  stranger,  wandering  among 
other  of  the  Enchanted  Isles,  fail  to  stumble 
upon  still  other  solitary  abodes,  long  aban 
doned  to  the  tortoise  and  the  lizard.  Probably 
few  parts  of  earth  have,  in  modern  times,  shel 
tered  so  many  solitaries.  The  reason  is,  that 
these  isles  are  situated  in  a  distant  sea,  and  the 
vessels  which  occasionally  visit  them  are  mostly 
all  whalers,  or  ships  bound  on  dreary  and  pro 
tracted  voyages,  exempting  them  in  a  good 
degree  from  both  the  oversight  and  the  me 
mory  of  human  law.  Such  is  the  character  of 
some  commanders  and  some  seamen,  that  under 
these  untoward  circumstances,  it  is  quite  im 
possible  but  that  scenes  of  unpleasantness  and 
discord  should  occur  between  them.  A  sullen 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  393 

hatred  of  the  tyrannic  ship  will  seize  the  sailor, 
and  he  gladly  exchanges  it  for  isles,  which, 
though  blighted  as  by  a  continual  sirocco  and 
burning  breeze,  still  offer  him,  in  their  laby 
rinthine  interior,  a  retreat  beyond  the  possi 
bility  of  capture.  To  flee  the  ship  in  any  Peru 
vian  or  Chilian  port,  even  the  smallest  and  most 
rustical,  is  not  unattended  with  great  risk  of 
apprehension,  not  to  speak  of  jaguars.  A  re 
ward  of  five  pesos  sends  fifty  dastardly  Spani 
ards  into  the  wood,  who,  with  long  knives, 
scour  them  day  and  night  in  eager  hopes  of 
securing  their  prey.  Neither  is  it,  in  general, 
much  easier  to  escape  pursuit  at  the  isles  of 
Polynesia.  Those  of  them  which  have  felt  a 
civilizing  influence  present  the  same  difficulty 
to  the  runaway  with  the  Peruvian  ports,  the 
advanced  natives  being  quite  as  mercenary  and 
keen  of  knife  and  scent  as  the  retrograde 
Spaniards ;  while,  owing  to  the  bad  odor  in 
which  all  Europeans  lie,  in  the  minds  of  abori 
ginal  savages  who  have  chanced  to  hear  aught 
of  them,  to  desert  the  ship  among  primitive 
Polynesians,  is,  in  most  cases,  a  hope  not  un- 

forlorn.     Hence  the  Enchanted  Isles  become 
17* 


394  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

the  voluntary  tarrying  places  of  all  sorts  of 
refugees ;  some  of  whom  too  sadly  experience 
the  fact,  that  flight  from  tyranny  does  not  of 
itself  insure  a  safe  asylum,  far  less  a  happy 
home. 

Moreover,  it  has  nojb  seldom  happened  that 
hermits  have  been  made  upon  the  isles  by  the 
accidents  incident  to  tortoise-hunting.  The  in 
terior  of  most  of  them  is  tangled  and  difficult  of 
passage  beyond  description  ;  the  air  is  sultry 
and  stifling  ;  an  intolerable  thirst  is  provoked, 
for  which  no  running  stream  offers  its  kind  re 
lief.  In  a  few  hours,  under  an  equatorial  sun, 
reduced  by  these  causes  to  entire  exhaustion, 
woe  betide  the  straggler  at  the  Enchanted  Isles! 
Their  extent  is  such  as  to  forbid  an  adequate 
search,  unless  weeks  are  devoted  to  it.  The 
impatient  ship  waits  a  day  or  two ;  when,  the 
missing  man  remaining  undiscovered,  up  goes  a 
stake  on  the  beach,  with  a  letter  of  regret,  and 
a  keg  of  crackers  and  another  of  water  tied  to 
it,  and  away  sails  the  craft. 

Nor  have  there  been  wanting  instances  where 
the  inhumanity  of  some  captains  has  led  them 
to  wreak  a  secure  revenge  upon  seamen  who 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  395 

have  given  their  caprice  or  pride  some  singular 
offense.  Thrust  ashore  upon  the  scorcking  marl, 
such  mariners  are  abandoned  to  perish  outright, 
unless  by  solitary  labors  they  succeed  in  dis 
covering  some  precious  dribblets  of  moisture 
oozing  from  a  rock  or  stagnant  in  a  mountain 
pool. 

I  was  well  acquainted  with  a  man,  who,  lost 
upon  the  Isle  of  Narborough,  was  brought  to 
such  extremes  by  thirst,  that  at  last  he  only 
saved  his  life  by  taking  that  of  another  being. 
A  large  hair-seal  came  upon  the  beach.  He 
rushed  upon  it,  stabbed  it  in  the  neck,  and  then 
throwing  himself  upon  the  panting  body  quaffed 
at  the  living  wound ;  the  palpitations  of  the 
creature's  dying  heart  injected  life  into  the 
drinker. 

Another  seaman,  thrust  ashore  in  a  boat  upon 
an  isle  at  which  no  ship  ever  touched,  owing  to 
its  peculiar  sterility  and  the  shoals  about  it, 
and  from  which  all  other  parts  of  the  group 
were  hidden — this  man,  feeling  that  it-  was  sure 
death  to  remain  there,  and  that  nothing  worse 
than  death  menaced  him  in  quitting  it,  killed 
two  seals,  and  inflating  their  skins,  made  a  float, 


39G  THE     PIAZZA      TALES. 

upon  which  he  transported  himself  to  Charles's 
Island,  and  joined  the  republic  there. 

But  men,  not  endowed  with  courage  equal  to 
such  desperate  attempts,  find  their  only  re 
source  in  forthwith  seeking  some  watering- 
place,  however  precarious  or  scanty  ;  building 
a  hut;  catching  tortoises  and  birds;  and  in  all 
respects  preparing  for  a  hermit  life,  till  tide 
or  time,  or  a  passing  ship  arrives  to  float  them 
off. 

At  the  foot  of  precipices  on  many  of  the  isles, 
small  rude  basins  in  the  rocks  are  found,  partly 
filled  with  rotted  rubbish  or  vegetable  decay, 
or  overgrown  with  thickets,  and  sometimes  a 
little  moist;  which,  upon  examination,  reveal 
plain  tokens  of  artificial  instruments  employed 
in  hollowing  them  out,  by  some  poor  castaway 
or  still  more  miserable  runaway.  These  basins 
are  made  in  places  where  it  was  supposed  some 
scanty  drops  of  dew  might  exude  into  them 
from  the  upper  crevices. 

The  relics  of  hermitages  and  stone  basins  are 
not  the  only  signs  of  vanishing  humanity  to  be 
found  upon  the  isles.  And,  curious  to  say,  that 
spot  which  of  all  others  in  settled  communities 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  397 

is  most  animated,  at  the  Enchanted  Isles  pre 
sents  the  most  dreary  of  aspects.  And  though  it 
may  seem  very  strange  to  talk  of  post-offices  in 
this  barren  region,  yet  post-offices  are  occasion 
ally  to  be  found  there.  They  consist  of  a  stake 
and  a  bottle.  The  letters  being  not  only  sealed, 
but  corked.  They  are  generally  deposited  by 
captains  of  Nantucketers  for  the  benefit  of  pass 
ing  fishermen,  and  contain  statements  as  to 
what  luck  they  had  in  whaling  or  tortoise-hunt 
ing.  Frequently,  however,  long  months  and 
months,  whole  years  glide  by  and  no  applicant 
appears.  The  stake  rots  and  falls,  presenting 
no  very  exhilarating  object. 

If  now  it  be  added  that  grave-stones,  or  rather 
grave-boards,  are  also  discovered  upon  some  of 
the  isles,  the  picture  will  be  complete. 

Upon  the  beach  of  James's  Isle,  for  many 
years,  was  to  be  seen  a  rude  finger-post,  point 
ing  inland.  And,  perhaps,  taking  it  for  some 
signal  of  possible  hospitality  in  this  otherwise 
desolate  spot — some  good  hermit  living  there 
with  his  maple  dish — the  stranger  would  follow 
on  in  the  path  thus  indicated,  till  at  last  he 
would  come  out  in  a  noiseless  nook,  and  find 


398  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

his  only  welcome,  a  dead  man — his  sole  greet 
ing  the  inscription  over  a  grave.  Here,  in  1813, 
fell,  in  a  daybreak  duel,  a  lieutenant  of  the  U.S. 
frigate  Essex,  aged  twenty-one :  attaining  his 
majority  in  death. 

It  is  but  fit  that,  like  those  old  monastic  insti 
tutions  of  Europe,  whose  inmates  go  not  out  of 
their  own  walls  to  be  inurned,  but  are  entombed 
there  where  they  die,  the  Encantadas,  too,  should 
bury  their  own  dead,  even  as  the  great  general 
monastery  of  earth  does  hers. 

It  is  known  that  burial  in  the  ocean  is  a  pure 
necessity  of  sea-faring  life,  and  that  it  is  only 
done  when  land  is  far  astern,  and  not  clearly 
visible  from  the  bow.  Hence,  to  vessels  cruis 
ing  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Enchanted  Isles,  they 
afford  a  convenient  Potter's  Field.  The  inter 
ment  over,  some  good-natured  forecastle  poet 
and  artist  seizes  his  paint-brush,  and  inscribes 
a  doggerel  epitaph.  When,  after  a  long  lapse 
of  time,  other  good-natured  seamen  chance  to 
come  upon  the  spot,  they  usually  make  a  table 
of  the  mound,  and  quaff'  a  friendly  can  to  the 
poor  soul's  repose. 

As  a  specimen  of  these  epitaphs,  take  the 


THE     ENCANTADAS.  399 

following,  found  in  a  bleak  gorge  of  Chatham 
Isle  :— 

"  Oh,  Brother  Jack,  as  you  pass  by, 
As  you  are  now,  so  once  was  I. 
Just  so  game,  and  just  so  gay, 
But  now,  alack,  they've  stopped  my  pay. 
No  more  I  peep  out  of  my  blinkers, 
Here  I  be — tucked  in  with  clinkers ! " 


THE    BELL-TOWER, 

IN  the  south  of  Europe,  nigh  a  once  frescoed 
capital,  now  with  dank  mould  cankering  its 
bloom,  central  in  a  plain,  stands  what,  at  dis 
tance,  seems  the  black  mossed  stump  of  some 
immeasurable  pine,  fallen,  in  forgotten  days, 
with  Anak  and  the  Titan. 

As  all  along  where  the  pine  tree  falls,  its 
dissolution  leaves  a  mossy  mound — last-flung 
shadow  of  the  perished  trunk ;  never  length 
ening,  never  lessening  ;  unsubject  to  the  fleet 
falsities  of  the  sun ;  shade  immutable,  and  true 
gauge  which  cometh  by  prostration — so  west 
ward  from  what  seems  the  stump,  one  steadfast 
spear  of  lichened  ruin  veins  the  plain. 

From  that  tree-top,  what  birded  chimes  of 
silver  throats  had  rung.  A  stone  pine  ;  a  me 
tallic  aviary  in  its  crown  :  the  Bell-Tower, 
built  by  the  great  mechanician,  the  unblest 
foundling,  Bannadonna. 

Like  Babel's,  its  base  was  laid  in  a  high  hour 
of  renovated  earth,  following  the  second  deluge, 


402  THE      PIAZZA     TALES. 

when  the  waters  of  the  Dark  Ages  had  dried 
up,  and  once  more  the  green  appeared.  No 
wonder  that,  after  so  long  and  deep  submersion, 
the  jubilant  expectation  of  the  race  should,  as 
with  Noah's  sons,  soar  into  Shinar  aspiration. 

In  firm  resolve,  no  man  in  Europe  at  that 
period  went  beyond  Bannadonna.  Enriched 
through  commerce  with  the  Levant,  the  state 
in  which  he  lived  voted  to  have  the  noblest 
Bell-Tower  in  Italy.  His  repute  assigned  him 
to  be  architect. 

Stone  by  stone,  month  by  month,  the  tower 
rose.  Higher,  higher ;  snail-like  in  pace,  .but 
torch  or  rocket  in  its  pride. 

After  the  masons  would  depart,  the  builder, 
standing  alone  upon  its  ever-ascending  summit, 
at  close  of  every  day,  saw  that  he  overtopped 
still  higher  walls  and  trees.  He  would  tarry 
till  a  late  hour  there,  wrapped  in  schemes  of 
other  and  still  loftier  piles.  Those  who  of  saints' 
days  thronged  the  spot — hanging  to  the  rude 
poles  of  scaffolding,  like  sailors  on  yards,  or 
bees  on  boughs,  unmindful  of  lime  and  dust, 
and  falling  chips  of  stone — their  homage  not 
the  less  inspirited  him  to  self-esteem. 


THE     BELL-TOWER.  403 

At  length  the  holiday  of  the  Tower  came. 
To  the  sound  of  viols,  the  climax-stone  slowly 
rose  in  air,  and,  amid  the  firing  of  ordnance, 
was  laid  by  Bantiadonna's  hands  upon  the  final 
course.  Then  mounting  it,  he  stood  erect, 
alone,  with  folded  arms,  gazing  upon  the  white 
summits  of  blue  inland  Alps,  and  whiter  crests 
of  bluer  Alps  off-shore — sights  invisible  from 
the  plain.  Invisible,  too,  from  thence  was  that 
eye  he  turned  below,  when,  like  the  cannon 
booms,  came  up  to  him  the  people's  combus 
tions  of  applause. 

That  which  stirred  them  so  was,  seeing  with 
what  serenity  the  builder  stood  three  hundred 
feet  in  air,  upon  an  unrailed  perch.  This  none 
but  he  durst  do.  But  his  periodic  standing 
upon  the  pile,  in  each  stage  of  its  growth — 
such  discipline  had  its  last  result. 

Little  remained  now  but  the  bells.  These, 
in  all  respects,  must  correspond  with  their  re 
ceptacle. 

The  minor  ones  were  prosperously  cast.  A 
highly  enriched  one  followed,  of  a  singular 
make,  intended  for  suspension  in  a  manner  be 
fore  unknown.  The  purpose  of  this  bell,  its 


.404:  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

rotary  motion,  and  connection  with  the  clock 
work,  also  executed  at  the  time,  will,  in  the  se 
quel,  receive  mention. 

In  the  one  erection,  bell-tower  and  clock- 
tower  were  united,  though,  before  that  period, 
such  structures  had  commonly  been  built  dis 
tinct  ;  as  the  Campanile  and  Torre  del  'Orolo- 
gio  of  St.  Mark  to  this  day  attest. 

But  it  was  upon  the  great  state-bell  that  the 
founder  lavished  his  more  daring  skill.  In  vain 
did  some  of  the  less  elated  magistrates  here 
caution  him ;  saying  that  though  truly  the 
tower  was  Titanic,  yet  limit  should  be  set  to 
the  dependent  weight  of  its  swaying  masses. 
But  undeterred,  he  prepared  his  mammoth 
mould,  dented  with  mythological  devices  ;  kin 
dled  his  fires  of  balsamic  firs  ;  melted  his  tin 
and  copper,  and,  throwing  in  much  plate,  con 
tributed  by  the  public  spirit  of  the  nobles,  let 
loose  the  tide. 

The  unleashed  metals  bayed  like  hounds. 
The  workmen  shrunk.  Through  their  fright, 
fatal  harm  to  the  bell  was  dreaded.  Fearless 
as  Shadrach,  Bannadonna,  rushing  through  the 
glow,  smote  the  chief  culprit  with  his  ponderous 


THE     BELL-TOWER.  405 

ladle.  From  the  smitten  part,  a  splinter  was 
dashed  into  the  seething  mass,  and  at  once  was 
melted  in. 

Next  day  a  portion  of  the  work  was  heed- 
fully  uncovered.  All  seemed  right.  Upon  the 
third  morning,  with  equal  satisfaction,  it  was 
bared  still  lower.  At  length,  like  some  old 
Theban  king,  the  whole  cooled  casting  was  dis 
interred.  All  was  fair  except  in  one  strange 
spot.  But  as  he  suffered  no  one  to  attend  him 
in  these  inspections,  he  concealed  the  blemish 
by  some  preparation  which  none  knew  better 
to  devise. 

The  casting  of  such  a  mass  was  deemed  no 
small  triumph  for  the  caster  ;  one,  too,  in  which 
the  state  might  not  scorn  to  share.  The  homi 
cide  was  overlooked.  By  the  charitable  that 
deed  was  but  imputed  to  sudden  transports  of 
esthetic  passion,  not  to  any  flagitious  quality. 
A  kick  from  an  Arabian  charger  ;  not  sign  of 
vice,  but  blood. 

His  felony  remitted  by  the  judge,  absolution 
given  him  by  the  priest,  what  more  could  even 
a  sickly  conscience  have  desired. 

Honoring  the  tower   and   its   builder  with 


406  THE      PIAZZA     TALES. 

another  holiday,  the  republic  witnessed  the 
hoisting  of  the  bells  and  clock-work  amid 
shows  and  pomps  superior  to  the  former. 

Some  months  of  more  than  usual  solitude  on 
Bannadonna's  part  ensued.  It  was  not  unknown 
that  he  was  engaged  upon  something  for  the 
belfry,  intended  to  complete  it,  and  surpass  all 
that  had  gone  before.  Most  people  imagined 
that  the  design  would  involve  a  casting  like  the 
bells.  But  those  who  thought  they  had  some 
further  insight,  would  shake  their  heads,  with 
hints,  that  not  for  nothing  did  the  mechanician 
keep  so  secret.  Meantime,  his  seclusion  failed 
not  to  invest  his  work  with  more  or  less  of  that 
sort  of  mystery  pertaining  to  the  forbidden. 

Ere  long  he  had  a  heavy  object  hoisted  to  the 
belfry,  wrapped  in  a  dark  sack  or  cloak — a  pro 
cedure  sometimes  had  in  the  case  of  an  elaborate 
piece  of  sculpture,  or  statue,  which,  being  in 
tended  to  grace  the  front  of  a  new  edifice,  the 
architect  does  not  desire  exposed  to  critical 
eyes,  till  setup,  finished,  in  its  appointed  place. 
Such  was  the  impression  now.  But,  as  the 
object  rose,  a  statuary  present  observed,  or 
thought  he  did,  that  it  was  not  entirely  rigid, 


THE     BELL-TOWER.  407 

but  was,  in  a  manner,  pliant.  At  last,  when 
the  hidden  thing  had  attained  its  final  height, 
and,  obscurely  seen  from  below,  seemed  almost 
of  itself  to  step  into  the  belfry,  as  if  with  little 
assistance  from  the  crane,  a  shrewd  old  black 
smith  present  ventured  the  suspicion  that  it 
was  but  a  living  man.  This  surmise  was  thought 
a  foolish  one,  wThile  the  general  interest  failed 
not  to  augment. 

Not  without  demur  from  Bannadonna,  the 
chief-magistrate  of  the  town,  with  an  associate 
— both  elderly  men — followed  what  seemed 
the  image  up  the  tower.  But,  arrived  at  the 
belfry,  they  had  little  recompense.  Plausibly 
entrenching  himself  behind  the  conceded  mys 
teries  of  his  art,  the  mechanician  withheld 
present  explanation.  The  magistrates  glanced 
toward  the  cloaked  object,  which,  to  their 
surprise,  seemed  now  to  have  changed  its  atti 
tude,  or  else  had  before  been  more  perplexingly 
concealed  by  the  violent  muffling  action  of  the 
wind  without.  It  seemed  now  seated  upon 
some  sort  of  frame,  or  chair,  contained  within 
the  domino.  They  observed  that  nigh  the  top, 
in  a  sort  of  square,  the  web  of  the  cloth,  either 


408  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

from  accident  or  design,  had  its  warp  partly 
withdrawn,  and  the  cross 'threads  plucked  out 
here  and  there,  so  as  to  form  a  sort  of  woven 
grating.  Whether  it  were  the  low  wind  or  no, 
stealing  through  the  stone  lattice-work,  or  only 
their  own  perturbed  imaginations,  is  uncertain, 
but  they  thought  they  discerned  a  slight  sort 
of  fitful,  spring-like  motion,  in  the  domino. 
Nothing,  however  incidental  or  insignificant, 
escaped  their  uneasy  eyes.  Among  other  things, 
they  pried  out,  in  a  corner,  an  earthen  cup, 
partly  corroded  and  partly  encrusted,  and  one 
whispered  to  the  other,  that  this  cup  was  just 
such  a  one  as  might,  in  mockery,  be  offered  to 
the  lips  of  some  brazen  statue,  or,  perhaps,  still 
worse. 

But,  being  questioned,  the  mechanician  said, 
that  the  cup  was  simply  used  in  his  founder's 
business,  and  described  the  purpose  ;  in  short, 
a  cup  to  test  the  condition  of  metals  in  fusion. 
He  added,  that  it  had  got  into  the  belfry  by 
the  merest  chance. 

Again,  and  again,  they  gazed  at  the  domino, 
as  at  some  suspicious  incognito  at  a  Venetian 
mask.  All  sorts  of  vague  apprehensions  stirred 


THE   BELL-TOWER.  409 

them.  They  even  dreaded  lest,  when  they 
should  descend,  the  mechanician,  though  with 
out  a  flesh  and  blood  companion,  for  all  that, 
would  not  be  left  alone. 

Affecting  some  merriment  at  their  disquietude, 
he  begged  to  relieve  them,  by  extending  a  coarse 
sheet  of  workman's  canvas  between  them  and 
the  object. 

Meantime  he  sought  to  interest  them  in  his 
other  work  ;  nor,  now  that  the  domino  was  out 
of  sight,  did  they  long  remain  insensible  to  the 
artistic  wonders  lying  round  them ;  wonders 
hitherto  beheld  but  in  their  unfinished  state ; 
because,  since  hoisting  the  bells,  none  but  the 
caster  had  entered  within  the  belfry.  It  was 
one  trait  of  his,  that,  even  in  details,  he  would 
not  let  another  do  what  he  could,  without  too 
great  loss  of  time,  accomplish  for  himself.  So, 
for  several  preceding  weeks,  whatever  hours 
were  unemployed  in  his  secret  design,  had  been 
devoted  to  elaborating  the  figures  on  the  bells. 

The  clock-bell,  in  particular,  now  drew  atten 
tion.  Under  a  patient  chisel,  the  latent  beauty 
of  its  enrichments,  before  obscured  by  the  cloud 
ings  incident  to  casting,  that  beauty  in  its  shyest 
18 


410  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

grace,  was  now  revealed.  Kound  and  round 
the  bell,  twelve  figures  of  gay  girls,  garlanded, 
hand-in-hand,  danced  in  a  choral  ring — the  em 
bodied  hours. 

"  Bannadonna,"  said  the  chief,  "  this  bell  ex 
cels  all  else.  No  added  touch  could  here  im 
prove.  Hark !"  hearing  a  sound,  "  was  that 
the  wind  ?" 

"  The  wind,  Excellenza,"  was  the  light  re 
sponse.  "  But  the  figures,  they  are  not  yet  with 
out  their  faults.  They  need  some  touches  yet. 
When  those  are  given,  and  the block  yon 
der,"  pointing  towards  the  canvas  screen, 
"  when  Haman  there,  as  I  merrily  call  him, — 

him  ?  it,  I  mean when  Haman  is  fixed  on 

this,  his  lofty  tree,  then,  gentlemen,  will  I  be 
most  happy  to  receive  you  here  again." 

The  equivocal  reference  to  the  object  caused 
some  return  of  restlessness.  However,  on  their 
part,  the  visitors  forbore  further  allusion  to  it, 
unwilling,  perhaps,  to  let  the  foundling  see  how 
easily  it  lay  within  his  plebeian  art  to  stir  the 
placid  dignity  of  nobles. 

"  Well,  Bannadonna,"  said  the  chief,  "  how 
long  ere  you  are  ready  to  set  the  clock  going, 


THE     BELL-TOWER.  411 

so  that  the  hour  shall  be  sounded  ?  Our  interest 
in  you,  not  less  than  in  the  work  itself,  makes 
us  anxious  to  be  assured  of  your  success.  The 
people,  too, — why,  they  are  shouting  now.  Say 
the  exact  hour  when  you  will  be  ready." 

"  To-morrow,  Excellenza,  if  you  listen  for  it, 
— or  should  you  not,  all  the  same — strange 
music  will  be  heard.  The  stroke  of  one  shall 
be  the  first  from  yonder  bell,"  pointing  to  the 
bell  adorned  with  girls  and  garlands,  "that 
stroke  shall  fall  there,  where  the  hand  of  Una 
clasps  Dua's.  The  stroke  of  one  shall  sever 
that  loved  clasp.  To-morrow,  then,  at  one 
o'clock,  as  struck  here,  precisely  here,"  advanc 
ing  and  placing  his  finger  upon  the  clasp,  <f  the 
poor  mechanic  will  be  most  happy  once  more 
to  give  you  liege  audience,  in  this  his  littered 
shop.  Farewell  till  then,  illustrious  magnifi- 
coes,  and  hark  ye  for  your  vassal's  stroke." 

His  still,  Vulcanic  face  hiding  its  burning 
brightness  like  a  forge,  he  moved  with  ostenta 
tious  deference  towards  the  scuttle,  as  if  so  far 
to  escort  their  exit.  But  the  junior  magistrate, 
a  kind-hearted  man,  troubled  at  what  seemed 
to  him  a  certain  sardonical  disdain,  lurking  be- 


412  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

neath  the  foundling's  humble  mien,  and  in 
Christian  sympathy  more  distressed  at  it  on  his 
account  than  on  his  own,  dimly  surmising  what 
might  be  the  final  fate  of  such  a  cynic  solitaire, 
nor  perhaps  uninfluenced  by  the  general  strange 
ness  of  surrounding  things,  this  good  magistrate 
had  glanced  sadly,  sideways  from  the  speaker, 
and  thereupon  his  foreboding  eye  had  started 
at  the  expression  of  the  unchanging  face  of  the 
Hour  Una. 

"  How  is  this,  Bannadonna?"  he  lowly  asked, 
"  Una  looks  unlike  her  sisters." 

"  In  Christ's  name,  Bannadonna,"  impulsively 
broke  in  the  chief,  his  attention,  for  the  first 
attracted  to  the  figure,  by  his  associate's  remark, 
"  Una's  face  looks  just  like  that  of  Deborah,  the 
prophetess,  as  painted  by  the  Florentine,  Del 
Fonca." 

"  Surely,  Bannadonna,"  lowly  resumed  the 
milder  magistrate,  "  you  meant  the  twelve 
should  wear  the  same  jocundly  abandoned  air. 
But  see,  the  smile  of  Una  seems  but  a  fatal  one. 
'Tis  different. 

While  his  mild  associate  was  speaking,  the 
chief  glanced,  inquiringly,  from  him  to  the  cast- 


THE     BELL-TOWER.  413 

er,  as  if  anxious  to  mark  how  the  discrepancy 
would  be  accounted  for.  As  the  chief  stood, 
his  advanced  foot  was  on  the  scuttle's  curb. 

Bannadonna  spoke : 

"  Excellenza,  now  that,  following  your  keener 
eye,  I  glance  upon  the  face  of  Una,  I  do,  indeed 
perceive  some  little  variance.  But  look  all 
round  the  bell,  and  you  will  find  no  two  faces 
entirely  correspond.  Because  there  is  a  law  in 

art but  the  cold  wind  is  rising  more;  these 

lattices  are  but  a  poor  defense.  Suffer  me, 
magnificoes,  to  conduct  you,  at  least,  partly  on 
your  way.  Those  in  whose  well-being  there  is 
a  public  stake,  should  be  needfully  attended." 

"  Touching  the  look  of  Una,  you  were  saying, 
Bannadonna,  that  there  was  a  certain  law 
in  art,"  observed  the  chief,  as  the  three  now 
descended  the  stone  shaft,  "  pray,  tell  me, 
then ." 

"Pardon;  another  time,  Excellenza; — the 
tower  is  damp." 

"  Nay,  I  must  rest,  and  hear  it  now.  Here, 
— here  is  a  wide  landing,  and  through  this  lee 
ward  slit,  no  wind,  but  ample  light.  Tell  us  of 
your  law  ;  and  at  large." 


414  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

"  Since,  Excellenza,  you  insist,  know  that 
there  is  a  law  in  art,  which  bars  the  possibility 
of  duplicates.  Some  years  ago,  you  may  re 
member,  I  graved  a  small  seal  for  your  republic, 
bearing,  for  its  chief  device,  the  head  of  your 
own  ancestor,  its  illustrious  founder.  It  be 
coming  necessary,  for  the  customs'  use,  to  have 
innumerable  impressions  for  bales  and  boxes,  I 
graved  an  entire  plate,  containing  one  hundred 
of  the  seals.  Now,  though,  indeed,  my  object 
was  to  have  those  hundred  heads  identical,  and 
though,  I  dare  say,  people  think  them  so,  yet, 
upon  closely  scanning  an  uncut  impression  from 
the  plate,  no  two  of  those  five-score  faces,  side 
by  side,  will  be  found  alike.  Gravity  is  the  air 
of  all ;  but,  diversified  in  all.  In  some,  benevo 
lent  ;  in  some,  ambiguous ;  in  two  or  three,  to 
a  close  scrutiny,  all  but  incipiently  malign,  the 
variation  of  less  than  a  hair's  breadth  in  the 
linear  shadings  round  the  mouth  sufficing  to  all 
this.  Now,  Excellenza,  transmute  that  general 
gravity  into  joyousness,  and  subject  it  to  twelve 
of  those  variations  I  have  described,  and  tell 
me,  will  you  not  have  my  hours  here,  and  Una 
one  of  them?  But  I  like ." 


THE     BELL-TOWER.  415 

"  Hark  !  is  that a  footfall  above  ? 

"  Mortar,  Excellenza  ;  sometimes  it  drops  to 
the  belfry-floor  from  the  arch  where  the  stone 
work  was  left  undressed.  I  must  have  it  seen 
to.  As  I  was  about  to  say  :  for  one,  I  like  this 
law  forbidding  duplicates.  It  evokes  fine  per 
sonalities.  Yes,  Excellenza,  that  strange,  and 
— to  you — uncertain  smile,  and  those  fore-look 
ing  eyes  of  Una,  suit  Bannadonna  very  well." 

"  Hark  ! — sure  we  left  no  soul  above  ?" 

"  No  soul,  Excellenza  ;  rest  assured,  no  soul. 
— Again  the  mortar.'* 

"  It  fell  not  while  we  were  there." 

"  Ah,  in  your  presence,  it  better  knew  its 
place,  Excellenza,"  blandly  bowed  Bannadonoa. 

"  But,  Una,"  said  the  milder  magistrate,  "  she 
seemed  intently  gazing  on  you ;  one  would 
have  almost  sworn  that  she  picked  you  out 
from  among  us  three." 

"  If  she  did,  possibly,  it  might  have  been  her 
finer  apprehension,  Excellenza." 

"  How,  Bannadonna  ?  I  do  not  understand 
you." 

"  No  consequence,  no  consequence,  Excellenza 
— but  the  shifted  wind  is  blowing  through  the 


416  THE      PIAZZA     TALES. 

slit.  Suffer  me  to  escort  you  on,;  and  then, 
pardon,  but  the  toiler  must  to  his  tools." 

"  It  may  be  foolish,  Signor,"  said  the  milder 
magistrate,  as,  from  the  third  landing,  the  two 
now  went  down  unescorted,  "  but,  somehow, 
our  great  mechanician  moves  me  strangely. 
Why,  just  now,  when  he  so  superciliously  re 
plied,  his  walk  seemed  Sisera's,  God's  vain  foe, 
in  Del  Fonca's  painting.  And  that  young, 
sculptured  Deborah,  too.  Ay,  and  that ." 

"  Tush,  tush,  Signor !"  returned  the  chief. 
"  A  passing  whim.  Deborah? — Where's  Jael, 
pray  ?" 

"Ah,"  said  the  other,  as  they  now  stepped 
upon  the  sod,  "  Ah,  Signor,  I  see  you  leave 
your  fears  behind  you  with  the  chili  and  gloom  ; 
but  mine,  even  in  this  sunny  air,  remain. 
Hark  !" 

It  was  a  sound  from  just  within  the  tower 
door,  whence  they  had  emerged.  Turning, 
they  saw  it  closed. 

"  He  has  slipped  down  and  barred  us  out," 
smiled  the  chief;  "  but  it  is  his  custom." 

Proclamation  was  now  made,  that  the  next 
day,  at  one  hour  after  meridian,  the  clock 


THE     BELL- TOWER.  417 

would  strike,  and — thanks  to  the  mechanician's 
powerful  art — with  unusual  accompaniments, 
But  what  those  should  be,  none  as  yet  could 
say.  The  announcement  was  received  with 
cheers. 

By  the  looser  sort,  who  encamped  about  the 
tower  all  night,  lights  were  seen  gleaming 
through  the  topmost  blind-work,  only  disap 
pearing  with  the  morning  sun.  Strange  sounds, 
too,  were  heard,  or  were  thought  to  be,  by 
those  whom  anxious  watching  might  not  have 
left  mentally  undisturbed — sounds,  not  only  of 
some  ringing  implement,  but  also — so  they 
said — half-suppressed  screams  and  plainings, 
such  as  might  have  issued  from  some  ghostly 
engine,  overplied. 

Slowly  the  day  drew  on;  part  of  the  con 
course  chasing  the  weary  time  with  songs  and 
games,  till,  at  last,  the  great  blurred  sun  rolled, 
like  a  football,  against  the  plain. 

At  noon,  the  nobility  and  principal  citizens 
came  from  the  town  in  cavalcade,  a  guard  of 
soldiers,  also,  with  music,  the  more  to  honor 
the  occasion. 

Only    one    hour   more,     Impatience    grew. 

18* 


418  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

Watches  were  held  in  hands  of  feverish  men, 
who  stood,  now  scrutinizing  their  small  dial- 
plates,  and  then,  with  neck  thrown  back, 
gazing  toward  the  belfry,  as  if  the  eye  might 
foretell  that  which  could  only  be  made  sensible 
to  the  ear ;  for,  as  yet,  there  was  no  dial  to  the 
tower-clock. 

The  hour  hands  of  a  thousand  watches  now 
verged  within  a  hair's  breadth  of  the  figure  1. 
A  silence,  as  of  the  expectation  of  some  Shiloh, 
pervaded  the  swarming  plain.  Suddenly  a 
dull,  mangled  sound — naught  ringing  in  it; 
scarcely  audible,  indeed,  to  the  outer  circles  of 
the  people — that  dull  sound  dropped  heavily 
from  the  belfry.  At  the  same  moment,  each 
man  stared  at  his  neighbor  blankly.  All 
watches  were  upheld.  All  hour-hands  were 
at — had  passed — the  figure  1.  No  bell-stroke 
from  the  tower.  The  multitude  became  tu 
multuous. 

Waiting  a  few  moments,  the  chief  magis 
trate,  commanding  silence,  hailed  the  belfry,  to 
know  what  thing  unforeseen  had  happened 
there. 

No  response. 


THE      B  E  L  L  -  T  O  Vvr  E  R .  410 

He  hailed  again  and  yet  again. 

All  continued  hushed. 

By  his  order,  the  soldiers  burst  in  the  tower- 
door;  when,  stationing  guards  to  defend  it  from 
the  now  surging  mob,  the  chief,  accompanied 
by  his  former  associate,  climbed  the  winding 
stairs.  Half-way  up,  they  stopped  to  listen. 
No  sound.  Mounting  faster,  they  reached  the 
belfry;  but,  at  the  threshold,  started  at  the 
spectacle  disclosed.  A  spaniel,  which,  unbe 
known  to  them,  had  followed  them  thus  far, 
stood  shivering  as  before  some  unknowrn  mon 
ster  in  a  brake :  or,  rather,  as  if  it  snuffed  foot 
steps  leading  to  some  other  world. 

Bannadonna  lay,  prostrate  and  bleeding,  at 
the  base  of  the  bell  which  was  adorned  witli 
girls  and  garlands.  He  lay  at  the  feet  of  the 
hour  Una;  his  head  coinciding,  in  a  vertical 
line,  with  her  left  hand,  clasped  by  the  hour 
Dua.  With  downcast  face  impending  over 
him,  like  Jael  over  nailed  Sisera  in  the  tent, 
was  the  domino;  now  no  more  becloaked. 

It  had  limbs,  and  seemed  clad  in  a  scaly 
mail,  lustrous  as  a  dragon-beetle's.  It  was 
jTianaeled,  and  its  clubbed  arms  were  uplifted, 


420  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

as  if,  with  its  manacles,  once  more  to  smite  its 
already  smitten  victim.  One  advanced  foot  of 
it  was  inserted  beneath  the  dead  body,  as  if  in 
the  act  of  spurning  it. 

Uncertainty  falls  on  what  now  followed. 

It  were  but  natural  to  suppose  that  the 
magistrates  would,  at  first,  shrink  from  imme 
diate  personal  contact  with  what  they  saw. 
At  the  least,  for  a  time,  they  would  stand  in 
involuntary  doubt ;  it  may  be,  in  more  or  less 
of  horrified  alarm.  Certain  it  is,  that  an  arque- 
buss  was  called'  for  from  below.  And  some 
add,  that  its  report,  followed  by  a  fierce  whiz, 
as  of  the  sudden  snapping  of  a  main-spring, 
with  a  steely  din,  as  if  a  stack  of  sword-blades 
should  be  clashed  upon  a  pavement,  these 
blended  sounds  came  ringing  to  the  plain,  at 
tracting  every  eye  far  upward  to  the  belfry, 
whence,  through  the  lattice-work,  thin  wreaths 
of  smoke  were  curling. 

Some  .averred  that  it  was  the  spaniel,  gone 
mad  by  fear,  which  was  shot.  This,  others 
denied.  True  it  was,  the  spaniel  never  more 
was  seen ;  and,  probably,  for  some  unknown 
reason,  it  shared  the  burial  now  to  be  related 


THE     BELL-TOWER.  421 

of  the  domino.  For,  whatever  the  preceding 
circumstances  may  have  been,  the  first  instinct 
ive  panic  over,  or  else  all  ground  of  reasonable 
fear  removed,  the  two  magistrates,  by  them 
selves,  -quickly  rehooded  the  figure  in  the 
dropped  cloak  wherein  it  had  been  hoisted. 
The  same  night,  it  was  secretly  lowered  to  the 
ground,  smuggled  to  the  beach,  pulled  far  out 
to  sea,  and  sunk.  Nor  to  any  after  urgency, 
even  in  free  convivial  hours,  would  the  twain 
ever  disclose  the  full  secrets  of  the  belfry. 

From  the  mystery  unavoidably  investing  it, 
the  popular  solution  of  the  foundling's  fate 
involved  more  or  less  of  supernatural  agency. 
But  some  few  less  unscientific  minds  pretended 
to  find  little  difficulty  in  otherwise  accounting 
for  it.  In  the  chain  of  circumstantial  infer 
ences  drawn,  there  may,  or  may  not,  have 
been  some  absent  or  defective  links.  But,  as 
the  explanation  in  question  is  the  only  one 
which  tradition  has  explicitly  preserved,  in 
dearth  of  better,  it  will  here  be  given.  But,  in 
the  first  place,  it  is  requisite  to  present  the 
supposition  entertained  as  to  the  entire  motive 
and  mode,  with  their  origin,  of  the  secret  de- 


422  THE      PIAZZA.     TALES. 

sign  of  Bannadonna;  the  minds  above-men 
tioned  assuming  to  penetrate  as  well  into  his 
soul  as  into  the  event.  The  disclosure  will 
indirectly  involve  reference  to  peculiar  matters, 
none  of  the  clearest,  beyond  the  immediate 
subject. 

At  that  period,  no  large  bell  was  made  to 
sound  otherwise  than  as  at  present,  by  agita 
tion  of  a  tongue  within,  by  means  of  ropes,  or 
percussion  from  without,  either  from  cumbrous 
machinery,  or  stalwart  watchmen,  armed  with 
heavy  hammers,  stationed  in  the  belfry,  or  in 
sentry-boxes  on  the  open  roof,  according  as  the 
bell  was  sheltered  or  exposed. 

It  was  from  observing  these  exposed  bells, 
with  their  watchmen,  that  the  foundling,  as 
was  opined,  derived  the  first  suggestion  of  his 
scheme.  Perched  on  a  great  mast  or  spire,  the 
human  figure,  viewed  from  below,  undergoes 
such  a  reduction  in  its  apparent  size,  as  to 
obliterate  its  intelligent  features.  It  evinces 
no  personality.  Instead  of  bespeaking  volition, 
its  gestures  rather  resemble  the  automatic  ones 
of  the  arms  of  a  telegraph. 

Musing,  therefore,  upon  the  purely  Punchi- 


THE     BELL-TOWEE.  423 

nello  aspect  of  the  human  figure  thus  beheld,  it 
had  indirectly  occurred  to  Bannadonna  to  de 
vise  some  metallic  agent,  which  should  strike 
the  hour  with  its  mechanic  hand,  with  even 
greater  precision  than  the  vital  one.  And, 
moreover,  as  the  vital  watchman  on  the  roof, 
sallying  from  his  retreat  at  the  given  periods, 
walked  to  the  bell  with  uplifted  mace,  to  smite 
it,  Bannadonna  had  resolved  that  his  invention 
should  likewise  possess  the  power  of  locomo 
tion,  and,  along  with  that,  the  appearance,  at 
least,  of  intelligence  and  will. 

If  the  conjectures  of  those  who  claimed  ac 
quaintance  with  the  intent  of  Bannadonna  be 
thus  far  correct,  no  unenterprising  spirit  could 
have  been  his.  But  they  stopped  not  here; 
intimating  that  though,  indeed,  his  design  had, 
in  the  first  place,  been  prompted  by  the  sight 
of  the  watchman,  and  confined  to  the  devising 
of  a  subtle  substitute  for  him  :  yet,  as  is.  not 
seldom  the  case  with  projectors,  by  insensible 
gradations,  proceeding  from  comparatively  pig 
my  aims  to  Titanic  ones,  the  original  scheme 
had,  in  its  anticipated  eventualities,  at  last, 
attained  to  an  unheard  of  degree  of  daring. 


424  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

He  still  bent  his  efforts  upon  the  locomotive 
figure  for  the  belfry,  but  only  as  a  partial  type 
of  an  ulterior  creature,  a  sort  of  elephantine 
Helot,  adapted  to  further,  in  a  degree  scarcely 
to  be  imagined,  the  universal  conveniences  and 
glories  of  humanity;  supplying  nothing  less 
than  a  supplement  to  the  Six  Days'  Work; 
stocking  the  earth  with  a  new  serf,  more  useful 
than  the  ox,  swifter  than  the  dolphin,  stronger 
than  the  lion,  more  cunning  than  the  ape,  for 
industry  an  ant,  more  fiery  than  serpents,  and 
yet,  in  patience,  another  ass.  All  excellences 
of  all  God-made  creatures,  which  served  man, 
were  here  to  receive  advancement,  and  then  to 
be  combined  in  one.  Talus  was  to  have  been 
the  all-accomplished  Helot's  name.  Talus,  iron 
slave  to  Bannadonna,  and,  through  him,  to 
man. 

Here,  it  might  well  be  thought  that,  were 
these  last  conjectures  as  to  the  foundling's 
secrets  not  erroneous,  then  must  he  have  been 
hopelessly  infected  with  the  craziest  chimeras 
of  his  age ;  far  outgoing  Albert  Magus  and  Cor 
nelius  Agrippa.  But  the  contrary  was  averred. 
However  marvelous  his  design,  however  appa- 


THE     BELL-TOWER.  425 

rently  transcending  not  alone  the  bounds  of 
human  invention,  but  those  of  divine  creation, 
yet  the  proposed  means  to  be  employed  were 
alleged  to  have  been  confined  within  the  sober 
forms  of  sober  reason.  It  was  affirmed  that,  to 
a  degree  of  more  than  skeptic  scorn,  Banna- 
donna  had  been  without  sympathy  for  any  of 
the  vain-glorious  irrationalities  of  his  time. 
For  example,  he  had  not  concluded,  with  the 
visionaries  among  the  metaphysicians,  that  be 
tween  the  finer  mechanic  forces  and  the  ruder 
animal  vitality  some  germ  of  correspondence 
might  prove  discoverable.  As  little  did  his 
scheme  partake  of  the  enthusiasm  of  some 
natural  philosophers,  who  hoped,  by  physiolo 
gical  and  chemical  inductions,  to  arrive  at  a 
knowledge  of  the  source  of  life,  and  so  qualify 
themselves  to  manufacture  and  improve  upon 
it.  Much  less  had  he  aught  in  common  with 
the  tribe  of  alchemists,  who  sought,  by  a  spe 
cies  of  incantations,  to  evoke  some  surprising 
vitality  from  the  laboratory.  Neither  had  he 
imagined,  with  certain  sanguine  theosophists, 
that,  by  faithful  adoration  of  the  Highest,  un 
heard-of  powers  would  be  vouchsafed  to  man. 


426  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

A  practical  materialist,  what  Bannadonna  had 
aimed  at  was  to  have  been  reached,  not  by 
logic,  not  by  crucible,  not  by  conjuration,  not 
by  altars ;  but  by  plain  vice-bench  and  hammer. 
In  short,  to  solve  nature,  to  steal  into  her,  to 
intrigue  beyond  her,  to  procure  some  one  else 
to  bind  her  to  his  hand; — these,  one  and  all, 
had  not  been  his  objects;  but,  asking  no  favors 
from  any  element  or  any  being,  of  himself, 
to  rival  her,  outstrip  her,  and  rule  her.  He 
stooped  to  conquer.  With  him,  common  sense 
was  theurgy ;  machinery,  miracle ;  Prometheus, 
the  heroic  name  for  machinist;  man,  the  true 
God. 

Nevertheless,  in  his  initial  step,  so  far  as  the 
experimental  automaton  for  the  belfry  was  con 
cerned,  he  allowed  fancy  some  little  play ;  or, 
perhaps,  what  seetoed  his  fancifulness  was  but 
his  utilitarian  ambition  collaterally  extended. 
In  figure,  the  creature  for  the  belfry  should  not 
be  likened  after  the  human  pattern,  nor  any 
animal  one,  nor  after  the  ideals,  however  wild, 
of  ancient  fable,  but  equally  in  aspect  as  in 
organism  be  an  original  production;  the  more 
terrible  to  behold,  the  better. 


THE     BELL-TOWER.  427 

Such,  then,  were  the  suppositions  as  to  the 
present  scheme,  and  the  reserved  intent.  How, 
at  the  very  threshold,  so  unlocked  for  a  catas 
trophe  overturned  all,  or  rather,  what  was  the 
conjecture  here,  is  now  to  be  set  forth. 

It  was  thought  that  on  the  day  preceding  the 
fatality,  his  visitors  having  left  him,  Bannadonna 
had  unpacked  the  belfry  image,  adjusted  it,  and 
placed  it  in  the  retreat  provided — a  sort  of 
sentry-box  in  one  corner  of  the  belfry  ;  in  short, 
throughout  the  night,  and  for  some  part  of  the 
ensuing  morning,  he  had  been  engaged  in  ar 
ranging  everything  connected  with  the  domino  ; 
the  issuing  from  the  sentry-box  each  sixty 
minutes  ;  sliding  along  a  grooved  way,  like  a 
railway ;  advancing  to  the  clock-bell,  with  up 
lifted  manacles  ;  striking  it  at  one  of  the  twelve 
junctions  of  the  four-and-twenty  hands ;  then 
wheeling,  circling  the  bell,  and  retiring  to  its 
post,  there  to  bide  for  another  sixty  minutes, 
when  the  same  process  was  to  be  repeated  ;  the 
bell,  by  a  cunning  mechanism,  meantime  turn 
ing  on  its  vertical  axis,  so  as  to  present,  to  the 
descending  mace,  the  clasped  hands  of  the  next 
two  figures,  when  it  would  strike  two,  three, 


428  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

and  so  on,  to  the  end.  The  musical  metal  in 
this  time-bell  being  so  managed  in  the  fusion, 
by  some  art,  perishing  with  its  originator,  that 
each  of  the  clasps  of  the  four-and-twenty  hands 
should  give  forth  its  own  peculiar  resonance 
when  parted.  _ 

But  on  the  magic  metal,  the  magic  and  me 
tallic  stranger  never  struck  but  that  one  stroke, 
drove  but  that  one  nail,  served  but  that  one 
clasp,  by  which  Bannadonna  clung  to  his  ambi 
tious  life.  For,  after  winding  up  the  creature 
in  the  sentry-box,  so  that,  For  the  present, 
skipping  the  intervening  hours,  it  should  not 
emerge  till  the  hour  of  one,  but  should  then 
infallibly  emerge,  and,  after  deftly  oiling  the 
grooves  whereon  it  was  to  slide,  it  was  surmised 
that  the  mechanician  must  then  have  hurried  to 
the  bell,  to  give  his  final  touches  to  its  sculpture. 
True  artist,  he  here  became  absorbed ;  and  ab 
sorption  still  further  intensified,  it  may  be,  by 
his  striving  to  abate  that  strange  look  of  Una ; 
which,  though,  before  others,  he  had  treated 
with  such  unconcern,  might  not,  in  secret,  have 
been  without  its  thorn. 

And  so,  for  the  interval,  he  was  oblivious  of 


THE     BELL-TOWER.  429 

his  creature ;  which,  not  oblivious  of  him,  and 
true  to  its  creation,  and  true  to  its  heedful 
winding  up,  left  its  post  precisely  at  the  given 
moment;  along  its  well-oiled  route,  slid  noise 
lessly  towards  its  mark ;  and,  aiming  at  the 
hand  of  Una,  to  ring  one  clangorous  note,  dully 
smote  the  intervening  brain  of  Bannadonna, 
turned  backwards  to  it ;  the  manacled  arms 
then  instantly  up-springing  to  their  hovering 
poise.  The  falling  body  clogged  the  thing's 
return;  so  there  it  stood,  still  impending  over 
Bannadonna,  as  if  whispering  some  post-mortem 
terror.  The  chisel  lay  dropped  from  the  hand, 
but  beside  the  hand ;  the  oil-flask  spilled  across 
the  iron  track. 

In  his  unhappy  end,  not  unmindful  of  the 
rare  genius  of  the  mechanician,  the  republic 
decreed  him  a  stately  funeral.  It  was  resolved 
that  the  great  bell — the  one  whose  casting  had 
been  jeopardized  through  the  timidity  of  the 
ill-starred  workman — should  be  rung  upon  the 
entrance  of  the  bier  into  the  cathedral.  The 
most  robust  man  of  the  country  round  was 
assigned  the  office  of  bell-ringer. 

But  as  the  pall-bearers  entered  the  cathedral 


430  THE     PIAZZA     TALES. 

porch,  naught  but  a  broken  and  disastrous  sound, 
like  that  of  some  lone  Alpine  land-slide,  fell 
from  the  tower  upon  their  ears.  And  then,  all 
was  hushed. 

Glancing  backwards,  they  saw  the  groined 
belfry  crashed  sideways  in.  It  afterwards  ap 
peared  that  the  powerful  peasant,  who  had  the 
bell-rope  in  charge,  wishing  to  test  at  once 
the  full  glory  of  the  bell,  had  swayed  down 
upon  the  rope  with  one  concentrate  jerk. 
The  mass  of  quaking  metal,  too  ponderous  for 
its  frame,  and  strangely  feeble,  somewhere  at  its 
top,  loosed  from  its  fastening,  tore  sideways 
down,  and  tumbling  in  one  sheer  fall,  three 
hundred  feet  to  the  soft  sward  below,  buried 
itself  inverted  and  half  out  of  sight. 

Upon  its  disinterment,  the  main  fracture  was 
found  to  have  started  from  a  small  spot  in  the 
ear;  which,  being  scraped,  revealed  a  defect, 
deceptively  minute,  in  the  casting ;  which  de 
fect  must  subsequently  have  been  pasted  over 
with  some  unknown  compound. 

The  remolten  metal  soon  reassumed  its  place 
in  the  tower's  repaired  superstructure.  For 
one  year  the  metallic  choir  of  birds  sang  music- 


THE     BELL-TOWER.  431 

ally  in  its  belfry-bough-work  of  sculptured 
blinds  and  traceries.  But  on  the  first  anniver 
sary  of  the  tower's  completion — at  early  dawn, 
before  the  concourse  had  surrounded  it — an 
earthquake  came ;  one  loud  crash  was  heard. 
The  stone-pine,  with  all  its  bower  of  songsters, 
lay  overthrown  upon  the  plain. 

So  the  blind  slave  obeyed  its  blinder  lord ; 
but,  in  obedience,  slew  him.  So  the  creator 
was  killed  by  the  creature.  So  the  bell  was 
too  heavy  for  the  tower.  So  the  bell's  main 
weakness  was  where  man's  blood  had  flawed 
it.  And  so  pride  went  before  the  fall. 


DIX  &  EDWARDS 

Beg  to  announce  that,  by  special  arrangement,  they  will  publish,  as  speedily  as  possible, 
an  entirely  New  and  Uniform  Edition  of 

THE    WORKS 

OF 

GEORGE  WILLIAM  CURTIS, 

COMMENCING  WITH  A  NEW  WORK,  ENTITLED 


PKUE    AND    I, 

To  be  rapidly  followed  by 


II. 


NILE  NOTES  OF  A  HOWADJI. 
PREFACE. 

When  the  Persian  Poet,  Hafiz,  was  asked 
by  the  Philosopher,  Zenda,  what  he  was 
good  for,  he  replied : — 

•'  Of  what  use  is  a  flower  ?  " 

"A  flower  is  good  to  smell,"  said  the  phi 
losopher., 

"And  I  am  good  to  smell  it,"  said  the 
poet. 

III. 

THE  HOWADJI  IN  SYRIA. 


IV. 


LOTUS  EATING A  SUMMER  BOOK. 

CONTENTS. 

Hudson  and  Rhine,  Niagara  again, 

Oatskill,  Saratoga, 

Catskill  Falls,  Lake  George, 

Trenton,  Nahant, 

Niagara,  Newport, 

Newport  again. 

V. 

POTIPHAR    PAPERS, 

And  Meditation  of  Paul  Potiphar,  re 
printed  from  Putnam's  Monthly. 

CONTENTS. 

Our  Best  Society,       Potiphars  in  Paris, 
Our  New  Livery,         Letter  from  Kurz  Pa- 
A  Meditation  by  Paul    cha  (now  first  trans- 

Potiphar,  Esq.         lated), 
Summer  Diary  of  Mi-  Rev.  H'ry  Dove  to  Mrs. 

nerva  Tattle,  Potiphar  (private). 


By  the  author  of  "  Nile  Notes." 

CONTENTS. 

The  Desert,  Jerusalem, 

Damascus. 

PRUE  AND  I "  WILL  BE  PUBLISHED  ON  THE  FIRST  OF  JUNE.     EACH 
VOLUME  WILL  BE  SOLD  SEPARATELY. 


In  Press— will  be  published  shortly. 


ORIENTAL  ACQUAINTANCE 

ham  gsia 

A  portion  of  which  has  been  published  in  "PUTNAM'H  MONTHLY,"  and  has  been  ranch 
admired  for  its  gay  and  graphic  delineation  of  the  personal  habits  and  character  of  the 
various  races  now  occupying  this  interesting  old  country. 


RECENT  PUBLICATIONS  OF  DIX  &  EDWARDS, 


JUST  PUBLISHED, 

BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  "WALKS  AND  TALKS  OP  AN  AMERICAN 
FARMER  IN  ENGLAND/' 


A  JOURNEY  IN  THE 

SEABOARD  SLAVE  STATES; 

BY  FREDERICK  LAW  OLMSTED. 
1  Volume,  12mo.    725  Pages,  with  Wood  Cuts.    $1.50. 


This  work  is  written  in  the  quiet,  candid,  good-humored,  and 
manly  style  which  rendered  the  author's  previous  narrative  of  travel 
BO  widely  popular.  The  descriptions  of  Southern  Life  and  Scenery 
are  picturesque  and  dramatic,  and  much  more  detailed  and  accu 
rate  than  those  of  most  other  writers.  The  book,  in  fact,  offers  just 
that  kind  of  information  about  the  South  and  its  institutions,  which 
the  public  now  demands;  less  of  what  is  extraordinary  and  ex 
ceptional,  and  more  of  that  which  illustrates  every-day  life,  and 
general  character,  than  has  been  before  attempted.  In  matters  of 
controversy,  the  author  is  careful  and  courteous,  but  expresses  his 
own  conclusions  frankly  and  unmistakably. 


The  Southern  Cultivator  predicts  that  this  book  will  have 
"  greater  influence  on  the  minds  of  voters' '  than  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin  had. 

The  New  York  Daily  Times  says  of  it,  "  This  work  will  be  by 
far  the  best  yet  published  on  the  subject." 

The^  New  Orleans  Delta  observes  of  the  author,  "  Prejudiced  as 
his  opinions  were,  he  was  not  a  willfully  dishonest  man,  or  an  unfair 
writer.  We  would  welcome  a  few  more  men  of  his  calibre  amongst 
us — prejudiced,  but  manly  and  honest." 

Putnam's  Monthly. — "  His  calm,  clear,  and  unprejudiced  state 
ment  will  be  read  with  deep  interest,  by  North  and  South  alike.  As 
a  book  of  travel,  merely,  it  is  highly  fascinating,  by  its  sketches  of 
manners,  etc.,  and  as  a  book  of  principles,  it  is  no  less  valuable." 


Just     Published, 

A  SECOND  EDITION  OF  THE 

MORMONS  AT    HOME. 


A  DESCRIPTION  OF  A  TOUR  THROUGH  KANSAS  AND  UTAH, 
And  of  a  Residence  at  the 

GREAT    SALT    LAKE    CITY, 

BT  MRS.   B.   Q.   FERRIS, 

Wife  of  the  late  U.  S.  Secretary  for  Utah.— One  volume.    12mo.  cloth.    Price,  75  cents 


Extract  from  a  long  notice  in  the  London 
"  Daily  News,"  (Brig.) 

Here  is  a  book  written  by  a  lady,  the  wife 
of  a  gentleman  who  sojourned  six  months 
in  Utah,  in  an  official  capacity,  to  which  the 
authoress  has  prefixed  her  name,  and  in 
•which  she  has  recorded  what  she  saw, 
thought,  and  felt  whilst  among  the  Mor 
mons.  There  are  statements  in  this  book 
which  ought  to  cause  our  countrywomen 
to  make  all  the  inquiries  they  can,  and  be 
think  themselves  well  of  what  they  are 
about  to  do,  before  they  sell  the  little  all 
they  possess,  and  enter  on  a  long  journey  to 
an  unknown  land,  wherein  it  is  little  likely 
they  can  obtain  the  means  of  returning. 
The  staple  of  the  book  is  a  series  of  letters 
from  the  authoress,  addressed  to  her  friends 
while  resident  in  Utah,  and  on  her  way  to 
and  from  that  place.  These  letters  have 
been  revised  since  her  return  home,  and 
may  thus  be  regarded  as  combining  the 
freshness  of  impressions  written  on  the 
spur  of  the  moment,  with  the  deliberation 
of  opinions  renewed  after  a  lapse  of  time. 

The  "  Criterion,"  N.  Y, 
After  referring  to  Mr.  Ferris' s  work, 
says: — "His  wife  now  presents  the  present 
volume  as  her  carefully  revised  correspond 
ence, — giving  a  more  detailed  account, — 
an  excellent  picture,  indeed — of  travel 
across  the  plains,  and  her  experience  of 
the  social  condition  of  the  Mormons. 

"  Describing  the  various  members  of  their 
party,  she  gives  a  brief  account  of  one  who 
has  since  become  somewhat  notorious — in 
a  description  of  whom  our  readers  may 
therefore  feel  some  interest."  The  descrip 
tion  of  Stringfellow  is  here  inserted. 

"  It  will  be  easily  seen  that  our  know 
ledge  of  Mormonism  would  not  be  complete 
without  the  testimony  of  a  woman  upon  its 
apparent  state — not  to  mention  those  things 
BO  peculiarly  iu  woman's  sphere  that  the 


world  could  only  come  to  know  them 
through  her  ;  and  it  is  in  this  view  that 
Mrs.  Eerris's  volume  is  chiefly  valuable. 
Hers,  however,  is  the  pleasanter  of  the  two 
books  ;  the  husband's  will  do  for  reference. 

"Herald,"  N.  Y. 

The  problem  of  theoretic  government  in 
Utah  is  a  subject  just  now  absorbing  public 
concernment.  It  is  fortunate  that  it  has 
engaged  the  able  pen  of  the  writer,  who 
brings  to  her  aid  discrimination  and.  im 
partiality. 


"Tribune," 
"Mormons  at  Home 


Y. 

is  a  seasonable 


sketch    of  manners    and  customs  among 
the  Latter-Day  Saints. 

"  Express,"  W.  Y. 

"  Mormons  at  Home"  recounts  the  de 
tails  of  an  actual  visit  to  the  Salt  Lake 
Settlement  during  the  past  winter,  and 
affords  a  record  of  much  needed  informa 
tion,  by  an  intelligent  and  accurate  ob 
server. 

"  Patriot,"  Concord,  N.  H. 
1  '  The  account  given  by  an  eye-witness 
of  life  and  manners  among  this  singular 
people  will  be  read  with  interest.  Her 
testimony  is  decidedly  unfavorable  to  the 
PECULIAR  INSTITUTION  of  the  Mormons. 
Her  narrative  is  simple  and  seemingly 
truthful,  describing  a  novel  journey,  and 
reflecting  the  ordinary  external  develop 
ments  of  a  novel  state  of  society. 

"  Courier,"  N.  Y. 

The  lady-author  of  this  volume  writes 
with  ease,  clearness,  and  strength.  We  do 
not  hesitate  to  commend  this  book  as  the 
best  which  has  appeared  upon  the  Mormon 
character  and  territory. 


There  is  not  in  this  Book  anything  to  give  offense ;  it  may  be  read  by  all,  as  any 
ordinary  book  of  travels  would  be. 

DIX  &  EDWARDS,  321  Broadway, 

PUBLISHERS. 


RECENT  PUBLICATIONS  OF  D1X  &  EDWARDS. 

TWICE   MARRIED; 

A  STORY  OF  CONNECTICUT  LIFE. 

This  pleasant  little  tale  of  rustic  Yankee  Life  forms  the  first  of  a 
series  intended  to  be  issued  in  a  similar  style,  and  to  be  retailed  at 
75  cents  a  volume.  They  will  be  well  printed  on  good  paper,  so  as 
to  be  easily  read  on  the  rail-cars,  but  will  be  bound  in  a  manner 
equally  adapting  them  for  the  occupation  of  a  leisure  hour  in  the 
drawing-room.  A  few  notes  of  the  press  upon  TWICE  MARRIED 
will  indicate  the  general  character  of  the  works  to  be  selected  for 
this  series,  which  is  intended  to  afford  agreeable  and  healthy  enter 
tainment,  rather  than  to  enforce  moral  purposes,  or  furnish  instruc 
tion.  

"  We  have  not  read  so  pleasing  and  delightful  a  story  from  an 
American  author  for  a  long  time.  It  has  the  real  New  England 
fragrance  throughout.  It  is  beautifully  printed." — Middletown 
Sentinel 

"  Its  merits,  which  are  decided,  bespeak  a  careful,  correct,  and 
easy  writer,  a  shrewd  and  intelligent  observer  of  human  nature, 
and  a  sagacious  delineator  of  Yankeedom." — Boston  Atlas. 

"  The  style  of  the  author  is  genial  and  attractive,  and  reminds  ui 
of  the  smooth  and  graceful  style  of  Diedrich  Knickerbocker." — 
Ohio  Columbian. 

"  Twice  Married'  is  truly  a  charming  tale,  as  fresh  and  inspir 
ing  as  the  morning  air  in  Connecticut  meadows." — N.  Y,  Christian 
Inquirer. 

'*  Quiet  drollery  pervades  each  leaf,  and  his  good-natured  satire 
loses  nothing  of  its  force  from  being  laid  on  like  gold-beater's  skin." 
— New  Bedford  Standard. 

"  It  is  a  genuine  New  England  story,  and  is  written  in  the  clea-, 
simple,  idiomatic  style  in  which  all  such  stories  ought  to  be  clothed." 
— State  of  Maine. 

"  One  of  the  best  written  tales  we  have  of  primitive  Yankee  life 
and  character." — New  Bedford  Mercury. 

"In  'Twice  Married'  we  have  a  natural,  wholesome,  healthy, 
and  real  New  England  story — told,  too,  in  the  best  of  Old  English. 
Whoever  has  visited  the  quaint  and  quiet  town  of  Windham  will 
at  once  recognize  the  description  of  '  Walbury,'  from  the  pleasant 
painting  of  the  scenery  round  about,  even  to  the  '  graven  image 
of  the  chubby  Bacchus,  sitting  astride  a  wine-cask,'  up  in  the 
fork  of  the  venerable  elm-tree  before  the  tavern-door.  Hart 
ford,  too,  as  it  appeared  twenty  years  ago,  is  well  described,  from 
the  old  'Stage-House,'  in  State-st.,  to  the  respectable  Young  La 
dies'  Establishment  formerly  kept  by  the  Misses  Primber.  There 
are  plenty  of  other  places  and  people,  too,  in  this  story,  at  once 
recognizable;  for  the  characters  in  'Twice  Married'  are,  all  of 
them,  of  every-day  Yankee  life.  There  are  plenty  of  Sweenys  and 
Tabithas,  and,  now  and  then,  a  Daehlcigh  and  a  Lucy  Manners , 
and  the  story  is  a  reflex  of  country  society  and  customs  in  Con 
necticut  as  they  were  twenty  years  ago,  and  are,  to  this  day,  in 
localities  not  yet  cut  up  by  rail-roads." — Hartford  Daily  Times. 


PERIODICAL  PUBLICATIONS  OF  Dix  &  EDWARDS. 


PUTNAM'S    MONTHLY; 

A  MAGAZINE 
OF  LITERATURE,  SCIENCE,  AND  ART. 


WITH  the  January  number  commences  the  Seventh  Volume  of 
PUTNAM'S  MONTHLY.  The  constantly-increasing  circulation  of  the 
Magazine,  and  the  hearty  sympathy  with  which  the  efforts  of  the 
Publishers  have  been  received  by  the  public,  stimulate  them  to 
unwearied  efforts  to  continue  to  deserve  the  success  which  they'have 
achieved.  It  is  the  aim  of  the  Magazine  to  furnish  the  greatest 
variety  of  POPULAR  LITERARY  ENTERTAINMENT;  to 
criticise  politics  and  society,  from  the  most  manly  and  generous 
point  of  view ;  to  tell  the  truth  about  Books  and  Men,  so  far  as  they 
are  properly  subjects  of  public  notice ;  fb  present  the  most  spirited 
and  accurate  sketches  of  travel  and  personal  adventure ;  to  discuss 
science  in  all  its  proper  bearings ;  and,  in  general,  to  make  itself 
the  vehicle  of  the  best  observations  upon  all  contemporary  and 
national  interests.  This  will  always  be  done  by  the  best  talent  in  the 
country,  and  honestly,  but  it  cannot  always  be  done  without  offense. 
PUTNAM'S  MONTHLY  is  neither  a  Story  Book,  nor  a  partisan  Jour 
nal.  It  has  opinions  and  principles.  It  seeks  to  amuse  and  instruct; 
but  it  hopes,  also,  to  be  felt  as  the  friend  of  good  morals,  sound 
learning,  and  the  most  liberal  and  earnest  discussion. 

TERMS.— Three  Dollars  a  year,  or  Twenty-five  Cents  a  number, 
with  deductions  at  the  usual  rates  to  clubs,  and  to  subscribers  to  the 
other  periodical  publications  of  D.  &  E. 


"  This  Magazine  was  never  conducted  with  more  ability  than  now, 
and  never  gave  more  promise  of  holding  a  permanent  position  in 
the  literature  of  the  country." — Evening  Post. 

"  There  is  no  need  of  repeating  the  fact  that  PUTNAM'S  MAGA 
ZINE  is  the  best  and  most  readable  periodical  issued  in  this  country. 
That  assertion  is  uniformly  conceded,  as  it  is  the  common  conviction. 
There  are,  however,  a  few  other  considerations  which  the  press  and 
the  people  should  also  recognize  in  connection  with  it.  It  is  the 
leading  standard  by  which  our  literary  capacity  is  apt  to  be  meas 
ured,  as  well  abroad  as  at  home,  There  is,  at  present,  no  other 
matter  which  so  sorely  touches  our  national  reputation,  as  that  of 
literature.  There  is  no  single  avenue  in  which  an  American  senti 
ment  could  more  legitimately  act.  Upon  this  one  plank  of  a  na 
tional  platform  there  could  be  no  distinction  of  party.  Every  man, 
and  particularly  every  editor  should  realize  the  fact,  that  around 
this  periodical  are  banded  the  best  writers  who  can  be  maintained 
by  our  present  patronage  of  an  American  literature. 

N.  Y.  Evening  Express. 


PERIODICAL  PUBLICATIONS  OF  Dix  &  EDWARDS. 


HOUSEHOLD     WORDS. 

Re-published  Monthly  from  the  London  Edition. 
CONDUCTED    BY    CHARLES     DICKENS. 


Besides  its  distinguished  editor,  whose  name  has  become  so 
familiar  to  the  community,  by  his  Pickwick  Papers,  Dombey  & 
Son,  Bleak  House,  etc.,  etc.,  a  large  and  able  staff  of  contributors 
is  regularly  engaged  upon  this  Journal ;  among  them  William 
Howitt,  Barry  Cornwall,  Mary  Barton,  Faraday,  the  eminent 
chemist,  and  others  distinguished  in  Arts  and  Sciences. 

In  Household  Words  has  been  developed  almost  a  new  species 
of  Literature  (so  superior  have  been  its  articles  of  this  sort  to  any 
thing  of  the  kind  before  it) — the  presentation  of  Science  and  Scholar 
ship,  in  a  really  witty  and  entertaining  manner,  without  any 
vagueness  or  inaccuracy  in  the  information  conveyed. 

Alternately  piquant  and  tender  in  style,  always  manly,  demo 
cratic  and  humane  in  purpose,  readable,  instructive,  and  whole- 
eome,  a  singular  consistency  of  character  pervades  all  its  articles. 

It  is  especially  valuable  as  an  index  of  political,  social,  and  phil 
anthropic  reform,  and  of  popular  progress  in  Great  Britain ;  as 
instructive  of  the  latest  applications  of  Science  to  the  Trades  and 
Manufactures ;  as  encouraging  and  training  the  development  of 
beauty  in  the  Household  and  in  the  Mechanic  Arts,  and  as  furnish 
ing  the  best  light  literature  of  England,  in  novels,  tales,  personal 
narratives,  anecdotes,  andjeux  d' esprit. 

The  novels  included  in  Household  Words  not  only  appear  more 
promptly,  but  are  printed  better  than  in  any  other  form  hi  which 
they  are  ordinarily  offered  to  the  American  public. 


PUTNAM'S  MONTHLY  and  HOUSEHOLD  WORDS,  to  one 
address,  Five  Dollars;  PUTNAM'S  MONTHLY  or  HOUSE 
HOLD  WOEDS  with  the  SCHOOLFELLOW,  to  one  address, 
Thre  Dollars  and  Fifty  Cents ;  or  all  three  of  the  Magazines,  Five 
Dollars  and  Fifty  Cents. 


PERIODICAL  PUBLICATIONS  OF  Dix  &  EDWARDS. 


THE    SCHOOLFELLOW. 

AN  ILLUSTRATED  MAGAZINE 
FOR,   BOYS    AND    GIRLS. 


Every  number  will  contain  original  matter,  from  the  best  Ameri 
can  Authors ;  with  selections  and  translations  from  late  English, 
German,  and  French  Publications,  and  will  be  finely  and  profusely 
illustrated.  It  will  be  the  aim  of  the  publishers  to  combine,  in  the 
engravings  and  the  letter-press  of  The  Schoolfellow,  the  utmost 
possible  beauty,  variety,  interest,  and  substantial  instruction,  with 
an  elevated  moral  tone,  and  reverent  spirit.  The  general  character 
already  established  for  The  Schoolfellow  may  be  inferred  from  the 
following  remarks. 


"  There  are  books  enough  in  the  market  for  boys  and  girls,  as 
everybody  knows  ;  but  good  and  suitable  ones,  as  everybody 
who  has  looked  at  them  knows,  are  not  so  easily  found.  Two  serious 
faults  are  noticeable  in  most  of  the  publications  which  have  hitherto 
appeared,  intended  for  the  express  use  of  children.  In  the  first 
place,  they  have  failed  to  come  up  to  the  ordinary  intelligence  and 
common  sense  of  those  -for  whom  they  are  written.  The  mental 
activity  and  curiosity  of  children  from  six  to  fourteen  years  old,  are 
certainly  as  great  as  at  any  later  period  of  life.  If  you  wish  to 
instruct  them,  they  are  capable  of  learning  anything  that  is  simply 
and  clearly  expressed ;  and  if  your  object  is  to  amuse,  they  want 
something  better  than  baby-talk.  This,  we  think,  is  often  forgot 
ten,  and  the  writers  referred  to  fall  very  far  short  of  the  mark  at 
which  they  aim.  And  in  the  second  place,  children's  magazines  are 
too  apt  to  be  made  the  vehicles  of  a  false  and  morbid  morality, 
which  does  them  no  good,  but  only  interferes  with  the  wholesome 
instructions  and  examples  of  the  family,  and  of  serious,  religious 
homilies,  which  would  find  a  better  place  in  catechisms  and  Sunday- 
school  books.  The  publishers  of  The  Schoolfellow  appear  to  have 
appreciated  and  remedied  both  of  these  defects.  If  we  may  judge 
from  their  first  number,  they  are  going  to  give  us  an  instructive, 
entertaining,  and  amusing  Monthly,  which  is  exactly  adapted  to  its 
purpose,  and  will  be  as  valuable  and  welcome  to  the  younger  mem 
bers  of  the  family,  as  Putnam's  and  Harpers'  already  are  to  their 
elders." — Boston  Daily  Advertiser. 

TEIIMS. — One  Dollar  a  year  (payable  always  in  advance),  or  Ten 
Cents  a  number. 


